


Strike

by orphan_account



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-06-09 02:24:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 107,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6885352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perfect son, football star, scholarship kid; Calum Hood has everything going for him at the university. But when he isn't meeting his credit lineup and his advisor places him in Debate class for his sophomore fall semester, things start going downhill fast. Now on the edge of a failing grade and missed tracking obligations, Calum is at risk of getting kicked off the team and losing his scholarship grant. Advised by his friend Peter, he resorts to the only thing left he can think to do--talk to his professor, Mr. Hemmings. They appear to form an instant mental connection, and it only continues to grow as they meet each other more and more.</p><p>THIS IS AN ORPHANED WORK. However, I still assume full rights. This story is also in Wattpad under theyear1999. If questions about plagiarism arise, go there and ask me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Professor

**Author's Note:**

> While none of the characters in this fic are my property, the storyline is entirely mine. This story is also posted in Wattpad, by me, under the username theyear1999, all rights reserved.

Calum stood in the penalty arc of the university’s football field. He had his right foot up on the ball, rolling it slightly back and forth. A breeze blew, rippling the number 25 on his jersey. He took a deep breath and eyed the goal. He stepped back and readied the kick. Letting out the breath in a grunt, he moved forward and lace-kicked the ball as hard as he could at the net.

            Peter sidestepped and caught it easily, barely having to move.

            “Dammit,” Calum said, dropping his arms to his sides.

            “That’s the fourth one in a row, Cal!” Peter called from the goal. “You’re way out of it today.”

            “Yeah, I know,” Calum said. The day hadn’t been going well. It was Tuesday, his early day, and he’d gotten out of bed at six to get showered, to the bus, and into central campus by seven. Then it was off to math at 7:15—a double-block that lasted two hours—and Muscular Anatomy 3100 at 9:30. By eleven he was changed into his jersey and out on the field for practice with Peter; the whole team didn’t practice on Tuesdays.

            First, he couldn’t warm up. His kicks were weak, his hip hurting on the strike, and when he dribbled he kept tripping over his own feet. And now he hadn’t made a single penalty kick against Peter who, though he was one of Calum’s closest friends, wasn’t the greatest goalie. He thought he knew what was wrong.

            “It’s this class, man,” he said. “If I can’t pull my grade up I won’t be able to play in spring.”

            “Might lose your scholarship, too,” Peter pointed out.

            Calum threw him a middle finger. “Don’t remind me.”

            The class was Debate 1100. It was easy, a neo-educational course that focused less on political and economic topics and more on a broad range of subjects—thus knocking out a humanities and a social science credit at the same time, which was why most sports scholarship kids took it. True debate structure, while still considered, wasn’t followed exactly. The class was designed more to make students think broadly—to expands minds to multiple things and to teach observation and formation of beliefs—than to teach students how to tell people why the government should or shouldn’t raise funding for this or that. Calum hadn’t signed up for it on his own, but his advisor had put him in it just before the semester started because Calum hadn’t picked enough classes to cover his tracking obligations. He’d hoped math this semester would be enough, but no.

            And now he was struggling. In this 1-level class that he thought he’d pass with no effort at all, he was barely pulling a C-. Another failed assignment and he could be off the team until next year. Plus, he’d have to retake the course. Since the semester was only five weeks in, he had time to bring his grade up. But it was going to be work. And he would need to see Professor Hemmings outside of class.

            “Have you gone to your professor’s office hours yet?” Peter asked, reading his mind. He tossed the ball back to Calum.

            “No. I might soon, though. Honestly, my mind’s all over the place. I don’t have time to think about debate all the time. I need to focus on this.” He rolled the ball up on his foot, popped it in the air, and juggled it between his feet for a few seconds before he caught it in his hands. He studied the black and white pentagons, then dropped the ball back to the grass. “I don’t know, man.”

            “Better figure it out soon.”

            He sighed. “Yeah.” He looked at the stadium clock. 11:45. Crap. He had to shower and change back into his day clothes in less than fifteen minutes.

            “Gotta go, Pete. See you tomorrow.” He threw the goalie the ball.

            “Bye, dude.”

 

…

 

Calum was back in his _Nimrod_ muscle shirt and black jeans two minutes before class started. He stuffed everything into his backpack and ran out of the locker room. Thankfully, G Building, where Debate class was, was only a few minutes away. He started to walk with huge strides, not wanting to run and look like an idiot, but not wanting to be late, get another tardy, and run the risk of dropping his grade even lower.

            The door to his classroom came into view just as the clock tower started to chime out noon. “Ah, shit,” he said, and moved a little faster.

            The chimes ended before he got to the door to the lecture hall. When he grasped the handle, he heard Professor Hemmings greeting the class. Shrugging his backpack on tighter, he opened the door as quietly as he could, wishing he’d gotten there half a minute sooner. He stepped through the doorway, eased the door closed, and turned around to find Professor Hemmings looking straight at him.

            “Nice to see you, Mr. Hood. Have a seat,” he said, and turned back to the board.

            Calum sighed and took his seat in the back.

            “Today we’ll be talking about…” Professor Hemmings wrote the word on the board in sprawling script: “fallacies.” He underlined the word in one sweeping motion.

            Calum got out a pencil and opened his notebook. He rarely took notes. Mostly the pages were covered in doodles and snippets of words he thought could be song lyrics if he could get more into it. He’d played bass since he was little and could sing pretty well, too. But football had taken over his life, and getting a scholarship to the university with the best team in the district had been the highlight of his sports career. He was going to go pro—he knew it, and expected scouts at the games in spring. Song lyrics weren’t important. Still, he liked (even loved, though he wouldn’t admit it to himself) what he came up with at random hours of the day:

 

_You’re just a little bit out of my limit_

_From all the letters that I saved, this is everything I didn’t say_

_It hurts in my head and my heart and my chest…won’t you please stop loving me to death_

_Nothing like the rain when you’re in outer space_

           

            That last was his favorite…but it didn’t matter. What mattered right now, maybe even more than four missed penalty kicks in a row was—

            “The Ad Hominem fallacy.” Professor Hemmings wrote in quick half-cursive, half-print on the chalkboard. The chalk clicked rapidly as the sentence appeared on the black background. “This is when a speaker attacks the character of his opponent rather than rebutting his argument or counteracting his opinions. For example, ‘Mr. Hemmings is a bad teacher because he’s too tall and has a horrible addiction to cereal.’”

            The class chuckled. Calum glanced up at the board and saw it was covered in writing. Had he already missed so much? And he wondered why he couldn’t keep his grade. He couldn’t focus. He began scribbling down as much information as he could: The Straw Man, Slippery Slope, Equivocation, Bandwagon, Appeal to Ignorance. He didn’t know what any of it meant, but he’d look it up later. And he would go to office hours after class. He was in the middle of writing “assuming a claim is true because it hasn’t been proven false” when Professor Hemmings called on him.

            “Mr. Hood, can you tell us who might be one to use the appeal to ignorance?”

            Calum jerked his head up. “What? Oh…um…I’m not sure, sir.”

            Professor Hemmings smiled. “Anyone else?” he asked, turning away. Another student answered correctly.

            _Crap_ , Calum thought. _I’ve got to get my head in the game. Actually, I need to get my head_ out _of the game. And into schoolwork. I already know football…I don’t know this._

            Ugh. He decided notes weren’t the best thing for him to do. He put down his pencil and sat back. He listened as intently as he could for the remainder of class. Finally, Professor Hemmings dismissed them. Calum packed his notebook slowly, waiting for the other students to file out while Professor Hemmings erased the board. When the last stragglers put in their headphones and left the classroom, Calum went to the front of the hall, stood there for a second, and cleared his throat.

            “Professor?”

            Professor Hemmings turned to look at him, flashing a bright smile that Calum wasn’t expecting. “Yes, Calum?”

            Calum thought it was a little odd that things got less formal once class ended, but he didn’t mind. “You have office hours today, right?”

            Professor Hemmings nodded. “Anything you wanted to go over?”

            “I guess you could say that…” Professor Hemmings raised an eyebrow. Calum flicked his eyes down and back up again. “I mean, yes. There’s…I’d just like to talk.”

            What could he say? I need you to kindly give me a B or even just a C+ so I can get out of here and play football? That wouldn’t work.

            “I guess I just need a little help with some stuff.”

            Professor Hemmings nodded again, and Calum felt his face get hot. The Professor knew he was struggling. Calum only hoped he could help.

            “Usually I hold hours at one-thirty, but I can tack on the extra half-hour if you want to talk now.” Calum nodded. “Of course. My office is in H Building. Just give me a second…”

            Calum watched him pack up his things. Then they walked in awkward silence to H Building.

 

The office didn’t look the way Calum expected it to. He’d been imagining a big mahogany desk with a padded black rolling chair on the Professor’s side and an uncomfortable wooden chair for him to sit in. But that wasn’t it at all. There were two small couches—“loveseats” they were called, and Calum’s mouth quirked in an uncomfortable smile. The seats were facing each other, and the desk was on the far wall to the left, tucked in the corner. It was an open space that still managed to force direct conversation. Professor Hemmings pointed him to one of the sofas while he put his bag at his desk and took out a steno pad and pen.

            Calum sat down and was surprised by how comfortable the seat was. He seemed to sink into the cushion, but not too much. He waited for Professor Hemmings to sit opposite him.

            When the Professor came over, he said, “So. I’m assuming you’re here to talk about your grade.”

            Calum flushed again. He wasn’t used to being bad at things. This was humbling if not shameful. “Yeah.”

            Professor Hemmings nodded, just the way he always did. “How do you feel about it?”

            Calum laughed nervously. “Not good, obviously. I’m barely pulling a C-minus and I need better to stay in football.”

            “I hear you play well. Freshman star last year.”

            Calum shrugged, then nodded. “I’m here on a scholarship. I need the gen ed credit. That’s the only reason I’m—” He cut himself off. He didn’t want to be rude, but it was true.

            Professor Hemmings smiled. “It’s fine. A lot of my students are in the class to knock out the double credit. I like that I can help them along, and maybe I can expand their minds a little in the process.”

            “I feel like my mind is shriveling…” Calum mumbled, then looked up, embarrassed he’d said it.

            Professor Hemmings wrote something down on his steno pad, his head tilted to the side. What was he writing? Calum strained a little to see, but didn’t want to be caught doing it. Professor Hemmings stopped writing and looked up, and Calum fell back into the seat.

            “Here’s the deal, Calum—by the way, you can call me Luke. I find ‘Professor’ to be way too formal, especially since I’m not even a professor yet. I’m just a teaching assistant. And nobody calls me Lucas but my mother.”

            Calum didn’t know what to say. “Uh…okay.” He couldn’t call him Luke. That felt way too awkward. He shifted in the seat.

            “I’m only twenty-four, you know. Just another guy. Anyway, here’s the deal,” Luke continued. “I won’t say this class is particularly difficult, because it’s not. But it’s going to take some work. You need to start paying attention in lecture.” He leaned back and crossed an ankle over his knee. “I know you’re focused on football and other things, but I don’t think you want to retake this course. I promise you it can be fun if you open your mind.”

            “But that’s the thing, L…sir.” Nope. Not yet. “I don’t have any interest in ad hominem or how to argue and rebut. I just—”

            “What do you like, then?” Luke sat up straighter waiting for a reply. He had his pen poised above the paper.

            Calum crossed his arms and squeezed his biceps. “I don’t know. I like football.”

            “Tell me about it. Talk to me like you would if we were debating.”

            “But I don’t know how! That’s why I’m here.”

            “I’m teaching you,” Luke said calmly, a smile forming on the side of his mouth. “Tell me why football is important. Talk about it.”

            “I…” Calum wanted to crawl away. This was not what he was hoping for. “I don’t know. When I play, I don’t think. I just do it. Run, dribble, shoot…that’s all it is. Avoid the other bodies, pass the ball, watch your hands. That’s all.”

            “Okay.” Luke wrote on his paper again. “That’s a start. What else do you enjoy?”

            “Um…I play bass.”

            “Really?” Luke said. Something behind his eyes lit up, Calum thought. “Upright or guitar?”

            “Guitar.”

            “That’s great. I play guitar, too. Not bass, but you know. What kind of music do you like?”

            “Alternative, punk, rock. The heavy stuff.”

            “Heavy…” Luke said, and seemed to write that down too. “Me too. I play a lot of Green Day. The first song I learned was “Holiday.” That was drums, though. For guitar it was “Smoke on the Water.” Must have been fourteen or fifteen years ago.”

            Calum felt himself smile. He remembered learning his first song—“Longview” which, he didn’t know at the time, had an incredibly difficult bassline, but he killed it all the same after a few months. They both played, they both knew Green Day. He thought he was actually starting to enjoy himself. The Professor…Luke was actually a cool guy. Calum was so used to seeing the exterior pressed shirt and tie that screamed teacher and didn’t allow him to see Luke as a person. It was all a façade of make believe.

            _That would make a great lyric,_ Calum thought. He reminded himself to write it down later.

            “Heavy,” Luke said again. “Nice.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, lacing his fingers together. This close, Calum finally _looked_ at his face. He had a strong jawline dusted with stubble, a smallish pointed nose, and striking blue eyes. The way he sat was confident, like a band member doing an interview. His hair was kind of punk too, Calum thought, styled up and a little messy. And was that…? No, it couldn’t be. Calum thought he saw, on the left side of his lower lip, a place where a piercing might have been. Who was this guy? Not a quiet professor, certainly. At least, he didn’t used to be. At the moment, Calum could much more easily imagine Luke jumping off an amp onstage at a concert than standing stiffly at a debate podium. He liked both images the same, though.

            “That’s a good album, too,” Luke said, gesturing with his pen to Calum’s shirt.

            Calum blinked. “Which? Oh, yeah. “Hitchin’ A Ride” is one of my favorites.”

           “Great bassline.”

           Calum nodded emphatically, watching Luke’s mouth, trying to see that mark.

           “Can I give you a topic, Calum?”

           Calum, snapping out of his brief daze, smiled and cleared his throat. “I guess.”

           Luke returned the grin. “Talk to me about rock as poetry,” he said simply, and leaned back again and picked up his paper and pen.

           Rock as poetry? Well, Calum was no literature student but…

           “Poetry is writing as feeling, yes?” he asked. Luke nodded, his grin remaining. “Well…rock…rock is this melting pot of feeling. Rock can make you cry and laugh all at once. Hysterics, at times. The lyrics are a wavered reflection of reality. Rock is relatable— _I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment to come, I’m destined for anything at all._ ” He didn’t sing, but his voice became softer, more melodious. Luke listened intently, recognizing the lyrics. “That’s how I felt when I got the scholarship here…on top of the world. Rock, punk, _music_ itself looks life directly in the face. And it doesn’t flinch. I read something like that from a guy called Jim Hale.”

           Luke had written a few things down, but then he’d just listened. He was astounded. Here was a real student who didn’t know he was one. Here was a guy he could get to know through a sharing of minds. Here was Calum Hood.

           “Now tell me about rock as catharsis, Calum. Letting away tension.”

           Calum sighed, thinking. “Rock is feeling, sometimes so much that you can’t hold it in any more. It makes you want to scream or punch a wall, smash your guitar to pieces, not because you’re angry but because you need the release. Sometimes, especially when I _play_ music or sing, I feel like everything is flowing out of me all at once. It’s like I can see the problems vibrating out from my bass with the notes. All the bad shit and all the troubles.” This time, when Calum spoke more lyrics, Luke whispered along with him at the end: “ _I got under the grip between this modern hell…there’s fire in my veins and it’s pouring out—_ ”

           “ _Like a flood_ ,” they said together.

           “Like a flood,” Calum said, nodding. “Music, especially punk, is a bleeding of emotion. What did you say again?”

           “Catharsis.”

           “Yeah. A catharsis.” Calum heaved out a huge breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “Whoa.”

            “My thoughts exactly, Calum,” Luke said. Calum smiled shyly. “Now here’s your lesson. Answer me this: would you say, then, that poetry and catharsis are the same thing?”

            “I…” He tilted his head to the side. “I guess they could be.”

            “Would you have said that yesterday?”

            “Not at all. Catharsis would have been like _The Purge_ or something and poetry would have been frolicking through the flowers. I guess I never thought of it this way.”

            Luke nodded. “Very good. That’s the idea.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “You tell me.”

            “Uh…I don’t know.”

            “ _Think_.”

            Calum’s brow furrowed. “It’s…” And suddenly it all came to him. The whole point of this conversation. The whole reason they talked about this at all. It wasn’t that big of a deal but…he was getting it. He was learning. “It means that sometimes, two things that may seem different really aren’t at all.”

            “Like…?”

            “Like in debate. Two sides of an argument that appear to oppose can be essentially the same. But…wouldn’t that be bad? In debate?”

            Luke bit his lip and smiled. He was ecstatic. He’d never had a student go from being completely uninterested to this excited about a topic and learning so easily so quickly. He nodded once more. “Yes, it would. That’s the idea. Two sides may be alike or even equal. The hard part about debate, if you’re given a topic like that, is finding the difference. Otherwise you have no argument, and your opponent, if they’ve found their own argument, can best you.” He paused. He could see how relieved Calum was that he was learning and had a chance to bring up his grade. Was Calum just glad because he could stay in football? Or was he feeling something because he was gaining knowledge? Either way, Luke felt a sense of pride for the guy; he’d been there before, and only a few years back. He also felt pride in himself. He was glad to be a part of this. “You’re getting it.”

            Calum laughed and shook his head. “Holy shit. I have a chance at this.”

            Luke smiled again. “You do.”

            They looked at each other for a second, then Calum glanced at the clock and saw it was two. He was starving. “Man. I need to go. I’ve gotta eat lunch and get back to practice.”

            Luke opened his mouth to say something, closed it, then said, “Of course. Hey, I’m really glad you stopped by. I hope I helped you a little bit. I know we didn’t exactly cover much but…you’re getting the hang of it. At least a start anyway.”

            “Thank you, Prof…uh, Luke.” Calum still felt weird saying it, but it came out a little easier this time.

            Luke smiled and stood, and they shook hands. “I’ll see you in class on Thursday.”

            Calum smiled, nodded, and left the office.

 

…

 

When Calum closed the door behind him, Luke turned and got his legal pad from the couch. He’d written a few things down:

 

            Needs focus

            Needs CONFIDENCE

            Quick to form examples

 

But one thing in particular caught his eye. He’d written it sloppily, small on the edge of the paper:

 

            Striking

 

He didn’t remember writing that. What did he even mean? The word had so many different definitions and connotations…did he mean a literal blow, like a punch? Achieving agreement, like ‘striking a balance’? A strategic move or manipulation, like in court or debate? A sudden experience or revelation—being struck with an idea? Did he simply think Calum was a striking person? And what could _that_ mean? Striking in his intelligence? Or striking in—

            He tried to cut off that train of thought. Unfortunately, the word came anyway: appearance. Well…there was no denying that Calum was an appealing guy. Athletic build with arms shown off perfectly by his sleeveless shirt, tall, great bone structure, a kind face, thick hair and eyebrows, straight teeth, olive skin, lips twice as full as his own. Clearly he’d won the genetic lottery; Luke wondered what his ethnic background was. And on top of it all, an available and capable but yet-untapped mind.

            Luke shook his head. _Stop that_ , he told himself. Just another guy…what had he been thinking, telling Calum that? Sure he wanted their relationship to be not so teacher-student, not so distant, but he didn’t want Calum to get the wrong idea.

           Or maybe he did. Maybe, unconsciously, that’s why he’d said it in the first place. Trying to make himself more familiar, more informal, more like a friend than an instructor. More accessible.

           “Paging Doctor Freud,” he mumbled. He went to his desk and put the steno away in a drawer.

           Calum could pull himself out of the hole he was in. He was a smart kid. Certainly, like Luke had written, Calum came up with some great examples right on the spot—a skill debaters took a lot of time and research to develop. Sure, they were just song lyrics, but they fit the discussion well, and they conveyed exactly what Calum was trying to say. Perfect examples in this case. Maybe that was only because Luke actually identified with what they were talking about but…it was something.

          And Luke had been overjoyed to talk about music with Calum. Well, to hear Calum talk about music. Calum’s words were amazing—that was one thing about debaters: they truly knew how to use words. Rhetoric and its elements came easily to these people, who constantly used ethos, logos, persuasive speech. It also came easily to writers, who used metaphor; poets who used meter and imagery; lyricists, who used pathos and simile; politicians who used…fallacies. That was what Luke had been trying to get Calum to answer in class—a politician. Of course, there were other answers, but that was the most obvious. Either way, Calum’s mind had been elsewhere at the time. Luke felt like Calum was trying too hard to try. Focusing so much that all he could do was think to focus. If Calum could find a balance between his two extremes—zero focus and 110% focus—he could really get better. Dramatically, Luke thought, _He could rise to greatness_.

          There were two things Luke realized he wanted. The first was to hear Calum sing (he _desperately_ wanted this, but he didn’t know it). Calum had said he sang sometimes, and Luke liked hearing him speak lyrics, so what might a little music add to it? Luke only thought about this for a brief moment.

          He also wanted to hear Calum in a real debate. A practice one, sure, but in an actual argument with an opponent and a real topic. He thought that Calum wouldn’t ever want to do that, but it was a class requirement. Maybe he could get Calum excited…he seemed to be enjoying himself today. Right?

          He realized they had yet to do any mock debates in class. The other debate teachers probably had. And if not, they would at least be preparing their students for group debate and the individual competition in the auditorium in Feldmann Hall, should the students choose to participate. That was the big one—the tournament where individual debaters went through rounds until a champion was decided. Luke had placed third in his senior year, while his colleague and closest friend, Ashton, had been champion. Ashton had also placed third in their sophomore year, something rarely accomplished by such a young student. As well as being a magnet for women and an insane drummer, Ashton was the best debater Luke knew, and he was seeing bits of Ash’s style in Calum. He thought Calum could make it to Feldmann Hall for the big debate…if he could just bring out the best in Calum, it could happen.

          Luke went to Ashton for pretty much everything. He’d been telling Ashton about Calum since a week or two into the semester.

 

            “He has potential,” he said.

            “Have you talked to him in person yet?” Ashton asked.

            “Not yet. But look at this.”

            He handed Ashton one of Calum’s assignments. It was one of the first ones he’d given to the class. He’d asked them to write about literature, figuring everyone had read a book or two by now. They could talk about anything they wanted, but they had to make some sort of argument: why novels are important or not, something like that. And here was Calum’s, about escaping through the written words.

           Both teachers could see that there were moments of clarity in the writing, places where passion for something came through. At times, Calum’s work almost read like lyrics. But then it would fizzle out. The work would become sloppy, and there would be errors everywhere—ones Luke couldn’t just overlook. And that’s when the grade always dropped.

            “Seems to me that somewhere in the back of his mind he knows what he’s doing,” Ashton said, “but he’s too focused on other things to pull it together. I mean, this line is great: _Make believe worlds make us all feel alive._ I could add a beat to that it’s so rhythmic.” Ashton looked up in the air and mimed a drumbeat, tilting his head and frowning. “Maybe. Maybe it’s more acoustic. Anyway, do you get what I’m saying?”

            “That’s what I was trying to show you,” Luke said, taking back the paper. He looked down at it with an expression of…curiosity? Admiration? “It has feeling, which is what a debater needs. You know what it sounds like to have a debate about a topic no one cares about. Remember back in junior year when we argued…what was it? Carbon emission or something?”

            Ashton broke into one of his many laughs. “Jesus, I remember. That was awful. That was one of the first Cs I’d gotten on an individual debate.”

            “Did better than me,” Luke said, grinning. “But that’s beside the point.” He let the rest of his giggles out. “This,” he said, holding up the paper, “is good. Well, part of it. I need to draw it out of him.”

            “Talk to him after class.”

            “Yeah…” Luke said, rubbing the paper with his thumb. “Maybe.”

 

            But he hadn’t. He was unsure how to even start. It had only been a year or two and he’d forgotten how to be an undergrad, just-another-student kind of person. What was he to say to Calum? Look, I think your work is incredible but you’ve got to focus or I’ll have to fail you…yeah. That was no good.

            But it didn’t matter now. Because Calum had finally come to him. And he was pretty sure he’d be coming back.

 

…

 

Calum knew the moment he left that he’d be going back to see Luke.

            There was something immediate that connected them, but Calum didn’t know exactly what. What he did know was that he felt far more accomplished than he ever thought he would about a subject like debate. He felt like he had when he’d won his first football game back when he was six or seven. He felt that surge of electricity you get when you acquire a new skill and you turn out to be a natural. He felt amazing.

            Was it the rush of knowledge? No, that wasn’t right, because he hadn’t actually learned anything new. All he’d done—all Luke had done _for_ him—was draw out something he already possessed.

            Maybe that was it. Maybe it was the fact that Luke could help him this way. Maybe, he thought, it’s this newfound relationship—friendship, possibly—that was making him all-around better. Smarter. Quicker. And he loved it.

            Football made him feel great; that much he knew. When he made just the right pass, juked an opponent, or scored a goal himself the adrenaline rush was undeniable. But this didn’t feel like adrenaline. This was stronger—serotonin or dopamine even. Something less like a reaction or a reflex of the body and more like a message to himself: This is good. This is right. Keep going.

            The overwhelming feeling, even more than that of pride, was relief. He just didn’t know whether it came from the fact that he already knew he’d pass this class with Luke’s help, or the fact that he’d connected with Luke in general when he’d felt so distant previously.

            He would be going back. Thursday. Walking down the sidewalk towards the Subway on the south side of campus, he knew this to be true.

            He passed buildings C through F, looking in the windows at the computer techs and photographers, chemistry labs and Shakespeare play practices. Even though he knew this _wasn’t_ true, sometimes he felt like everyone else that went to school here already knew exactly what they were doing, had everything put together and ready to head out into the real world. He knew he wanted to play football…but lately he’d questioned if that was enough. He thought he might be doing something sports-science related, but who knew how that would turn out. He did seem to enjoy what little time he’d had learning debate today… He sighed.

            He turned the corner, heading down Capitol Road, the central street than ran through the entire southern half of campus. He shoved his hands in his pockets. Calum liked to people watch, because he hated them. He was shy and cynical and rarely found people he enjoyed being around, like Peter and now Luke. This sidewalk was pretty busy, full of little students like beetles with their backpacks. Here was a guy wearing god-awful baggy jeans and a huge purple sweatshirt. A girl in a short skirt and heels. An older man carrying a beat-up briefcase that he’d probably owned for thirty years. A guy with a massive lumberjack beard longboarding down the street. Another guy wearing black jeans almost the exact same as Calum’s own and a soft-looking sweater pulled down over his hands. He had spiked out, highlighter-blue hair that somehow still managed to look as soft and touchable as spider’s silk. Calum watched him for a moment, intrigued by the way he could look both like he wanted attention—what with the eye-catching hair—and like he didn’t want a single person to talk to him. He was almost completely covered, and what little skin Calum could see, which was basically his neck from this angle, was a creamy, phantasmal white. The guy turned his head slightly, and Calum caught a glint of the afternoon sun off an eyebrow piercing before the guy crossed the street and headed west.

            Calum made it off the sidewalk, past the mob of students going to their next class. His mind went immediately back to the meeting.

            When he’d looked at the clock in Luke’s office and saw it was so late, he’d been disappointed. Yes, he really was starving, but he hadn’t wanted to leave. He wanted to keep talking about music. He wanted to keep opening his mind to Luke, to let Luke’s spring-blue eyes see far back into his head and pull out what Calum never knew was there. He wanted Luke to see that he _wasn’t_ just the jock who sat in the back of the class and could barely keep a passing grade. He was smart. Did Luke already know that?

            He would starve all day if it meant feeling the way he did right now.

            He would be going back. Of course he would.

            He arrived at the Subway. He couldn’t decide between tuna and chicken, but he felt weird about getting both. He ended up with a footlong chicken with lettuce and tomato. He wanted carrots, but Subway never had them. It didn’t matter; he only ate half of it. He couldn’t get his mind off everything that had just happened. With all the chemicals rushing around inside him, he wasn’t very hungry after all.

            He pulled out his phone and called Peter.

            “Hey man. You don’t have class now, right? You want to head back to the field? I’m feeling…pretty good right about now.” Peter groaned, saying he had an essay for some Poli-Sci course, but agreed. Peter always agreed. “Sweet. Meet me in fifteen.”

 

            The field was empty. This was prime time for classes on campus—everyone who worked mornings was at class now, everyone who worked nights was at class now, and everyone else slept until twelve and partied late and therefore had class now.

            But Calum and Peter were always busy. Most of the sports kids were, actually. People might rat on them for “not being as smart” as everyone else, but that was crap. The sports kids took their classes _and_ they practiced all the time. This was one of the top sporting universities in the country. Even Calum, one of the top sophomore players in the district, was lucky to have made it in on scholarship last year. Peter wasn’t as good at football as Calum, but he was a killer law student, and that got him into the school. Calum was glad he was here.

            After an hour of drills, they were back at penalty kicks. This time, Calum had made all of six shots so far.

            “You really are feeling it,” Peter said, kicking the ball back to Calum. “Day got better, I see.”

            “Absolutely,” Calum said.

           Should he tell Peter about talking to Luke? He wanted to keep it to himself because something about the meeting in the office felt too good to share. But Peter was his best friend. He would tell him…but maybe tone it down a bit.

           “I went to see…my professor. After class.”

           “Yeah? How’d it go?” Peter said, readying to block Calum’s shot.

           Calum set the ball and made another goal easily. He grinned. “It went, uh, really well. I think I’ll do better. Actually, I’m sure I will. I’ll be here in spring. Don’t you worry, Pete.”

           And that was all he needed to say.

          Peter picked himself up off the grass and got the ball. “That’s good to hear, Cal. We’d surely lose every game without you.”

          Calum knew he was kidding, but it still felt good to hear Peter say that, because if he did say it then it had some meaning behind it. But the feeling did little to add on to how good he already felt.

          “Thanks, man.”

          Peter dusted his knees. “I think you’ve got the hang of the penalties, buddy,” he said. “Something else? Or should we call it quits for the night? Go get some dinner or something?”

          “Uh…” Calum knew he should keep practicing; the team would start meeting five days a week instead of three pretty soon. But he didn’t feel like it. He felt like going back to his dorm and listening to Green Day. Maybe “21st Century Breakdown” or “Are We the Waiting.” He put the ball away and pulled on his backpack. “How ‘bout tomorrow after team practice, yeah?”

          “All right,” Peter said, shrugging. Another thing Calum liked about Peter—he didn’t ask too many questions. He was down for anything or nothing.

          “Cool,” Calum said, clapping Peter on the shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”

 

On the bus back to his dormroom, Calum kept thinking about the smile Luke had flashed him when he’d said his name after class. That was back when Luke was still “Professor Hemmings.” It already felt like weeks ago.

          He arrived at his bus stop, thanked the driver, and went up to his dorm. His roommate was almost never there—he basically lived in his girlfriend’s dorm on the other half of the building. Sometimes Calum felt like everybody he knew and saw was in some relationship. His roommate, the people holding hands to and from class, the couples in the dining halls together. Peter, too, had a girlfriend back home, an hour away from the campus. He visited her every weekend, and they lived together on holidays and breaks. He told Calum he was going to ask her to marry him next year.

          Which was all fine and good; Calum was incredibly happy for Peter, because Peter was incredibly happy. But Calum was certainly out of the relationship loop. He had yet to find someone that really attracted him, and it didn’t help that 65% of the university’s student body were girls. There were guys on the team that were definitely good-looking, but none of them seemed to fit Calum’s standards, not that Calum saw himself as some object to be attained by the best suitor. All he wanted was someone who made him feel like he was on top of the world, like he was smart, like he was capable, like he was important and always would be.

          Someone like—

          From the room above him, he heard the sounds of yet another meaningless one-night-stand. The guy up there always had another girl to entertain. Calum was no longer in any mood to think about relationships or anything like them.

          He got out his phone, put in his earbuds, and turned the volume up.

_I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment to come, I’m destined for anything at all…_


	2. Not My Type

Classes started at 10:30 on Wednesday, but Calum was up at seven. He had nothing planned for the morning. He could call Peter, but they had team practice later that day, so maybe morning practice would be overkill. He could play some bass…he looked over and saw that his roommate had still not returned. He wouldn’t be disturbing anyone, but…eh.

            He sat up and tucked his knees into his chest. What to do…

            He picked up his phone. He checked all his social media, finishing with Facebook, that blue app that was becoming more and more obsolete. He scrolled past Vines and Buzzfeed posts, squinted when spoilers for _The Walking Dead_ were on and chuckled at a backwardly depressing line from _BoJack Horseman_. It was one of his favorite shows, chock full of idiotic puns and witty dialogue that really hit you hard sometimes. He clicked on the page, just to review a bit. There was the line about the kaleidoscope; the rose-colored glasses; society and Hungry, Hungry Hippos. The one about…oh.

 

_You gotta get your shit together. So yesterday you let yourself fall in love a little bit... Serves you right for having feelings!_

He felt his neck get hot.

          “Goodbye, Facebook,” he said, but found himself hitting the search bar anyway. He typed in Luke Hem—then backspaced and typed in Lucas Hemmings. He was the second suggestion. One thing about Facebook was it had that way of worming into every aspect of your life, and even if you didn’t tell it where you lived or what school you went to, and even if you had zero mutual friends with a person, it would still find them immediately.

          Calum clicked on the profile. There wasn’t a whole lot to see. Luke’s profile picture was simply him, standing on the sidewalk. Another guy with curly hair and a black hat had his arm slung over his shoulders. A good picture but not particularly—

          Calum had a sudden thought. Was that Luke’s boyfriend? Or just a friend? Or maybe Luke had a girlfriend. Maybe Luke’s girlfriend was taking the picture. Or, Jesus, what if Luke was _married_?

          Or maybe he needed to stop fucking thinking about it because it didn’t matter. Why did he care?

          He closed Facebook. But he opened up Instagram one more time and found Luke again. He clicked on the name. Private.

          “Seriously?”

          Calum hated private users. He knew that it was “safe” and it was good for “keeping out the creeps” but it was still annoying. You had to _ask_ to be their friend, as if they were some thing that had to be fought for and won. Please, sir, may I be your friend? Am I worthy? Gross.

          He rolled his eyes and shut down the app. He turned off his phone and rested his chin on his hands. So annoying. And yet he wished he could hit the request follow button and not seem super weird.

          He drummed his fingers a bit, then decided to get up and get dressed. He would go for a run.

 

He kept thinking about Luke as Good Charlotte played through his earbuds and he chased the pavement. After getting over the groggy angst of morning, he was back on that high from yesterday again. Or maybe it was the exercise endorphins. Either way, he wished he had debate again today. He was actually getting excited for the class. Well, maybe he was just excited because he was a hundred percent sure he’d be able to stay in football. Yeah, that must be it. He’d be out on the field in spring. He picked up the pace a bit and rounded a corner.

            It was a gorgeous day. The sun was out and the sky looked like a painting, perfect cotton ball clouds speckling the blue. Things were great. He ran past the cafeteria, past the auditorium, past the music building. He ran up Capitol Road and passed eventually by H Building. He slowed a little, wondering if Luke was in his office now. Panic!’s “Miss Jackson” started to play and he skipped it for Clyro’s “Black Chandelier.” He continued on.

            His lungs were starting to burn about a quarter mile before he got back to his dorm hall. He could walk the rest of the way. The day had heated up really quickly. He took off his shirt and pressed it to the back of his neck. He messed up his hair and swiped it out of his eyes. A girl walking the opposite direction smiled coyly at him as she passed by. He half-smiled back, trying to look uninterested, but she stopped just in front of him and said, “Hey. Do I know you from somewhere?”

            _Absolutely not. Go away, please._ “Uh…I don’t think so.”

            “Are you sure we didn’t have stats together? Last year?” She flipped her hair.

            Oh boy. She probably used this every time. Calum looked off to the side, trying to find somewhere else to be. But as much as he hated people, for reasons exactly like these, he was still nice to them because he didn’t know what else to do. “I actually haven’t even taken statistics yet. You must have me confused with someone else. Sorry, I’ve gotta—”

            “Are you sure? You look _so_ familiar. I think I would remember this face.” She reached up and touched his cheek. He flinched.

            “No, I’m sure. I’m sorry. I really need to get going.” And he awkwardly sidestepped around her and left.

            _Thank God that’s over._

            “Cal! Hey!”

            _Great_.

            It was Chad, the first-string left forward and stopper on the team. He jogged over to Calum. He’d been out for a run as well, apparently.

            “Hi, Chad.” Calum put his shirt back on.

            “What’s going on, man?” Chad clapped him on the back.

            Calum didn’t like Chad. If there was ever a cliché jock, Chad was him. He was big and too muscular, especially for a football player. And he was cocky and full of himself and acted like all the other guys on the team were bugs. Calum really didn’t like Chad.

            “Just running,” he said, wishing he hadn’t stopped in the first place. He could have been safely back in his dorm taking a hot shower by now.

            “Yeah, I can see that, buddy. But what’s up with that girl back there? She was _all_ up on you. You just blew her off?”

            “Uhh…” Calum looked back. The girl was gone. “She wasn’t really my type.”

            “Hot girls aren’t your type.” It was a statement, not a question.

            Calum just shrugged.

            Chad looked at him right in the eyes for a while. His forehead protruded a little. Calum thought he looked like a modernized Neanderthal. Calum blinked and looked away. He wasn’t one for pointless confrontation.

            “Whatever, man,” Chad finally said. “Maybe you should rethink your taste.” Calum looked at him. What was he saying? Chad shook his head. “Some people might…disagree.”

            And Chad left without clapping him on the shoulder again like he always did. Calum shook his head and jogged back to his dorm.

            After a shower and his favorite t-shirt—a blue one that said MAINE—he played bass for twenty minutes, then went to that day’s classes.

 

He met Peter in the locker room just as he finished changing. The other boys were getting ready to go out on the field.

            “What goes on, Cal?” Peter greeted him. “Feeling it today, too?”

            Calum finished tightening his cleats. He bounced around for a second. “Yeah. I feel great. Got up early, played some bass, went for a run.” He glanced over at Chad. “Ran into that guy, unfortunately,” he said.

            Peter rolled his eyes. “And how was that?”

            “Lovely,” Calum said. “He got on me for not talking to some random girl.”

            Peter looked at him seriously. “What did he say?”

            “I said she wasn’t my type and he told me I should rethink my taste.” Calum made a face. “Damned if I know what that even means.”

            Peter opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. After a second, he said, “That’s…weird.”

            “I know,” Calum said.

            Peter, as far as he and Calum knew, was the only one on the team who knew Calum’s “type.” It wasn’t short girls or smart girls or even hot girls. It wasn’t any girls. And Peter had seen enough of the news and _Real Sports with Bryant Gumbel_ to know that even in a society where same-sex marriage was being legalized all over the world and LGBT people were finally being considered regular, the world of sports was still fairly fixed in place. And a gay man was most often still just another square peg. If Calum wasn’t careful…

            Peter gazed over at Chad, watching him shove his clothes in his locker and crack his knuckles. “Weird,” he said again.

            Calum shrugged, seemingly unfazed by it. He was high up right now, and Peter wasn’t sure why. But Peter didn’t want to ruin Calum’s good mood, so he simply said, “Let’s head out.”

 

After an hour of drills, Calum and Peter got to sit down for a bit while the flank players practiced driving inside. Their coach had been happily shaking Calum by the shoulder all afternoon. Calum was doing incredibly, even better than some of the senior players. Football certainly came naturally to him. The pro leagues were just over the horizon.

            Peter chugged down half a Gatorade, watching them drill. Calum was standing next to him, touching his toes.

            “You know, Calum, if you keep it up like this, Coach’ll probably put you in for first string striker in spring.”

            “That’s the goal—no pun intended,” Calum said. Peter shook his head and smiled. “Don’t we have a scrimmage pretty soon?”

            “Yeah, like a week or two. Something like that. He’ll probably test you then.”

            “Who are we against?”

            Peter didn’t answer. He was looking off to his left where Chad was talking to another member of the team, number 12, senior goalie. Chad was standing close to 12 and looking sidewards at Peter and Calum. He flicked his hand toward them and said something and 12 leaned back, an incredulous look on his face. Chad nodded; 12 shook his head, glanced over, and crossed his arms. Chad shrugged. The two got some water and returned to the field.

            “Peter. Who are we playing again?” Calum asked.

            “Uh…did you see them talking? Looking at us?”

            “Probably jealous,” Calum said, joking.

            But that was probably right. _Shit_ , Peter thought. _Calum’s getting too good too fast. What happened that suddenly he’s stepping up his game two stairs at a time?_ If the other guys thought their play was in danger, then the other guys, at least the assholes like Chad, would do something about it. Calum was right—they were jealous. And Peter thought there was about to be a problem.

            But he didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t want to get his ass kicked by the “tenure guys” as he and Calum liked to call them, but he didn’t want Calum to be at risk, even though he didn’t know what the risk was yet. And Calum was doing _so_ well, and he was so happy. He didn’t know what to do at all.

            “Jesus, Pete, who are we playing?”

            Peter looked back at him. “I think Northside. I’m not sure though.” He watched Chad jog out to the coach.

            “Come on, man. You’re in outer space.” Calum said, putting his hands on his hips.

            Should Peter say something? Maybe he was making too big a deal of it. Maybe this was nothing at all. “Just watching, Cal,” he said. But he’d keep an eye and ear open.

            “Insert sarcastic comment,” Calum said.

            Peter rolled his eyes again. “Let’s go, dude. You’re on a roll.”

            And the hill might be sloping way too quickly.


	3. Red Curtain; Green Eye

Calum made it to class ten minutes early Thursday morning. He opened the door at the back of the hall and went quietly in, like always. He looked to the front and didn’t see Luke. Of course not; Luke always came in just as the bell tower chimed. Calum glanced at his usual seat in the back row. He decided to move up to the middle of the hall today. Why not? He took his seat.

            When the other students came in and the bell tolled, Luke strode through the doorway next to the chalkboard, carrying his bag. Calum watched him intently. Luke looked up at the class, peering toward the back of the hall near the door—the place where Calum usually sat. His face fell a little and he blinked, but he kept moving. He set his bag on his desk.

            “Morning, everyone.”

            Calum thought _Good morning_ back at him, but didn’t say it aloud. Some students answered their professor, but Calum always thought it sounded lackluster and sarcastic. But, answered or not, Luke smiled on with his half-lidded eyes, chin tilted up to see the full lecture hall. Gazing across the room, taking stock of the students, his eyes landed on Calum. And they lit. And Calum noticed, just barely, his smile widen.

            Calum smiled back, and Luke turned toward the chalkboard.

            Calum would have to go back to the office today. He’d need to thank Luke for his help, and let him know that football would be going well because of it. Luke would want to know, right?

            The rest of the class period, Calum watched closely, listening to Luke talk about rebuttal technique. Forty-five minutes later, the class was waning and he began to pack his things, eager to get to the office. The tower chimed, Luke dismissed the class, and Calum left the hall.

 

Luke noticed Calum pack up early and then watched him leave the class without looking back. So maybe he was wrong. Maybe Calum had no interest in returning to office hours. Maybe he’d found all he needed back on Tuesday. That was…fine, he supposed. Too bad, though—he’d wanted to talk more with Calum, maybe introduce some new topics and see how Calum would argue them. Truthfully, he wanted to hear Calum’s opinions on different things. He wanted to know what Calum thought, learn more about Calum’s interests. But if not…okay.

            The hall had emptied. He packed up his papers and slung his bag over his shoulder. He told himself that it was good that Calum had picked things up so easily. He was glad that he’d been able to teach him so well—or, rather, to help him understand himself a little better. It was good. Calum didn’t need his help anymore. All good.

            He rubbed the back of his neck. He looked around the hall, for some reason expecting to see someone there waiting to talk to him. But there was no one. He had to remind himself what kind of class he was teaching. This was a class that nobody cared about—one the kids needed to take for the credit. He couldn’t get many of them very interested. But Calum was, at least on Tuesday. And that had made Luke feel incredible, having a student be so suddenly inspired.

            It was good that Calum didn’t need his help anymore. Didn’t it mean that he knew what he was doing? It must.

            He left the lecture hall and walked to his office.

 

Luke finally came up the hallway in H Building to his office. Calum had been leaning against the wall next to the locked door for a few minutes, and he’d started to think Luke had gone off somewhere else. But here he was, looking rather wide-eyed.

            “Oh. Hi!” Luke said to him, then cleared his throat, looking at the floor.

            “Hey,” Calum said, and pushed off the wall.

            “You’re back,” Luke said, unlocking the door and holding it for Calum. “Is there something else you wanted to talk about? Questions about today’s class?” Luke couldn’t care less if Calum wanted to tell him that two plus two was five. For some reason, he was just glad Calum had actually come back. That immediate connection that had appeared between them on Tuesday was already returning, he felt. And they hadn’t even started talking yet.

            “Well, I just wanted to thank you for helping me,” Calum said. And even though he didn’t have much else to say, he took his seat on the same little couch as two days previous, and Luke took his. “For some reason, I feel like something clicked up here,” he held his hands up by his head, “and I’m pretty sure I’ll be doing okay. I’ll be able to stay in football.”

            Luke nodded. “You seemed to have the hang of something, that’s for sure. I won’t really know until I give you all an assignment but—” He shut up. He sounded like he didn’t have faith that Calum would do well. But he _knew_ he would. Calum tilted his head to the side. “I mean…I’d just like to see you in action, that’s all.” _What?_ “Your brain,” he added. He laughed nervously.

            Calum half-smiled. “I understand what you’re saying. I guess we didn’t actually go over much. I just have a feeling, you know?”

            Luke nodded quickly. “Of course.”

            Calum nodded back, looking at his hands. Now he didn’t know what to say, and it seemed Luke didn’t either.

            Finally, Luke said, “Tell you what…” He went to his desk and got his legal pad again, then sat back down. “Would it be okay if I gave you another topic? I know we’re not in class but…”

            Calum smiled. And he realized this was exactly what he wanted. He wanted Luke to ask him to stay and talk. He wanted to feel the way he did on Tuesday—like he was smart, and like he really knew something. He supposed Luke wanted to see it, too. “Yeah, that’s fine.” He shifted in his seat, sitting forward a little.

            Luke thought for a minute, trying to think of what he wanted to talk about. Something that Calum might enjoy. They couldn’t talk about music again, and he couldn’t think of what to ask, anyway. Something that everyone had a solid opinion on… Not politics—too annoying. Not environment—he’d had that go ‘round with Ashton years ago and it was bunk. But scientific might be a good idea. Or maybe legal? Wait…he could mix the two. That was it.

            “Okay. So, you’ve watched stuff like _Law & Order_, right?”

            Calum nodded. “Which one? _Criminal Intent_? _SVU_?”

            Luke waved his hand. “Any one, doesn’t matter. Although _SVU_ tends to discuss this the most.” Calum raised his eyebrows. “The insanity plea.”

            Calum nodded, a wry smile forming on his lips. “Interesting.”

            _Thank goodness,_ Luke thought. _Good choice_.

            “I do enjoy psychology, particularly abnormal,” Calum said. “Although I wouldn’t make a very good law student.” He thought about Peter, who would destroy him in any form of legal argument. He’d have to channel his friend today and hope that Luke didn’t think he sounded too clueless.

            But Luke said, “That’s completely fine. Another thing about debate, particularly in this type of course, is that you play to your own strengths. There are always different angles that people can take towards a subject. Yours might be the psychological angle; another student might take the judicial angle. It does not matter, as long as you can make a sound argument.”

            “Oh, good,” Calum said, letting out a dramatic sigh, to which Luke smiled. “Now I won’t seem so…unknowledgeable.”

            “Never say that,” Luke said seriously, and Calum felt him staring into his head again. “Just because someone knows more about a topic than you do doesn’t make them smarter. Everyone always knows something you don’t, and you always know something everyone else doesn’t. Academically or not.” Calum swallowed and nodded, looking back into Luke’s blue eyes, fixed firmly on his own. “You are who you are. Use it.”

            Calum felt something wiggle around in his chest. He looked at that spot on Luke’s lip again. He looked at Luke’s nose and his neck. He found himself glancing down at Luke’s fingers. There was no ring.

            He met eyes with Luke again. He nodded. “Will do.”

            “Good,” Luke said, and smiled again. “Okay, so here’s what we’ll talk about. Just pick a side. Like, should we or shouldn’t we use the insanity plea? I’ll take what you don’t.”

            “I’m debating you?” Now Calum knew he was going to look like an idiot.

            Luke rocked his head from side to side. “I mean, not _really_. I just want to see your technique. Hear you argue on your own terms. You’ll be fine.”

            “All right…” He didn’t know what to choose. He didn’t want Luke to judge him by his choice. What if Luke firmly believed in mental illness as pure, uncontrollable disease? Or what if, conversely, he was super into justice—an “eye-for-an-eye” kind of guy? Well, he’d just have to go with his gut and what he really believed. “I’m con. We shouldn’t allow it.”

            “Then I’m pro,” Luke said, giving no indication of how he felt about Calum’s choice. He quirked a tiny smile. “Let the debate begin.”

 

“Pro goes first,” Luke said, sitting back down on his couch and handing Calum a piece of paper. “That’s for notes. I think today I’ll just give my points and then you can go, giving your points and rebutting mine at the same time, okay?” Calum nodded, taking the sheet of paper and pen. “It’s not proper form but it doesn’t really matter. Don’t expect the same in class, though.”

            “No. Of course.” Calum fiddled with the pen, trying to get it open. It wouldn’t click or twist.

            “You press the clip,” Luke said, his eyes smiling.

            Calum did as he said, embarrassed. The pen clicked open. “Never seen that before.”

            “Don’t worry if you stumble,” Luke said. “Don’t worry if you don’t know too much about this. Really I just want to see how you carry yourself, what techniques you tend to use, things like that.”

            “Uh…okay.” Calum was really nervous. He did not want to look like an idiot, but he was pretty sure that it was going to happen anyway. What had he gotten himself into? But even still there was this feeling, a sort of misty blanket that was coming over him at the same time. A confidence. A calm. Somewhere he’d read about it… They called it—

            “Don’t be intimidated,” Luke told him. “I used to get really nervous when I first started learning debate. But I’ve been doing it a while now, and apparently I get pretty calm sometimes. My friend calls it the red curtain.”

            That was it. The red curtain. Calum nodded.

            “Are you ready?” Luke asked.

            Calum shrugged. “As I’ll ever be.”

            Calum watched Luke take a deep, silent breath. He straightened up, let the breath out, and opened his eyes. And yes, Calum was extremely intimidated. Luke’s pupils had shrunk and his jaw was set. He looked like he was about to address the nation to inform everyone that the world was about to go to war. He looked directly into Calum’s eyes, and he spoke.

            “Nineteen eighty-one. John Hinckley Junior becomes infatuated with actress Jodie Foster after watching the film _Taxi Driver_. He becomes obsessed, relocating to Connecticut to be near Yale University where Foster is then enrolled. He calls her, sends her messages and slips poetry under her door. He considers suicide to make her notice him. In a final act of desperate seeking of attention, he shoots President Ronald Reagan, collaterally injuring bystanders in the process. Hinckley and his legal team use the insanity defense, and Hinckley is acquitted of all charges.”

            Calum swallowed hard. Luke stood, and began to pace a little.

            “Now, Hinckley’s case was perceived by the public as a loophole to the system, allowing a criminal to dodge sentence and incarceration. Many members of the public believed that the insanity plea shouldn’t be allowed for this reason. But this is simply not the case. Like John Hinckley Junior, many of the people in cases like these are not criminals—they are distressed and diseased and should be allowed fair trial according to their illness.

            “In cases like Hinckley’s, two tests may be used—depending on jurisdiction—to determine legal insanity without prior objective testimony from a licensed physician. The first is the Irresistible Impulse test. Developed by the Alabama Supreme Court in eighteen eighty-seven, this test aims to determine that even if the defendant knows right from wrong, he or she is under such mental duress by disease as to lose the ability to choose between the two. The second test is the Model Penal Code test of legal insanity. Here, to _prove_ legal insanity, a court-appointed mental health professional must diagnose the defendant with a mental health defect—such as severe retardation or schizophrenia—that would have caused the defendant, at the time of the criminal act, to be unable to understand the criminality of the act or to conform his conduct to the requirements of the law.”

            He paused for a moment. Calum couldn’t tell if he was thinking, or doing it for effect. He thought it was the latter.

            Luke’s voice became quieter and darker. He was about to tell the nation of the death toll overseas.

            “The vast majority of mental illnesses have the ability to cause such circumstances that these two tests describe and determine. The aforementioned illnesses are only two examples. Consider the many forms of schizophrenia. Consider personality disorders. Consider childhood-onset disorders and simple chemical imbalances. If the insanity defense was given up, consider how many citizens—those who were entirely unaware or out of control of their own bodies because of an ill mind, and who could not govern or understand their actions when their minds took over and pulled the trigger or turned the knife—how many citizens would be locked away or sentenced to death. What would they think happened to them? Would they know what they had done? Would they understand why they were being punished? And would they receive any help? What kind of legal system would ours become…what kind of faith could we have in the law to protect those who are inconsistent with the norm, who are unable to function the way most of us do. Who are _sick_.”

            Calum sank back in his chair. Not only was he losing the will to argue his point, he was also changing his mind about his own beliefs. Luke was an incredible speaker…

            “Mental illness is like any other disease of the body: rampant, overpowering, and uncontrollable. The insanity defense should not only be allowed but encouraged. Used for finding, helping, and healing those who cannot help themselves, the insanity defense is an ideal tool for the legal system.”

            Luke stopped speaking. He’d had his hands laced together, using them to talk and moving them when he made his points. Now he dropped them to his sides and sat back down. He looked at Calum again, and all the darkness was gone from his face. The curtain had lifted.

            “Wow.” He shook his head. “That was not my best job. Ashton would squash me to the dirt. You should have no problem rebutting me.”

            Calum missed the name drop. Instead, he choked. “ _What_? Are you kidding me? How am I…what am I supposed to say to all that?”

            Luke shrugged. “Say whatever you believe.”

            “Well until now I believed the opposite of what you said. But after that…” He shook his head.

            Luke laughed. “No. You’ll be fine. Did you take notes?”

            Calum wanted to throw the paper behind his seat. He hadn’t written a single thing.

            “Well you must be pretty confident then, huh?” Luke said, smiling. “You’ll do fine. Just…you know. Speak. Like you did two days ago.”

            Calum sighed. “Do I have to stand?”

            “Only if you want to. But when we’re in class, you will.”

            “Lovely.”

            Luke only smiled at him. Calum stood, clasping his hands in front of him, incredibly nervous.

            “I’m a firm believer in justice for your actions.”

            Luke picked up his pen and wrote something down.

            _Christ, already?_ Calum thought. This was not going well. He looked at Luke, who gave him a nod to keep going.

            “Mental illness is not an excuse that can be used as a get out of jail free card.”

            Luke smiled a little. And so did Calum relax. He let out a breath, letting the nerves go away with it.

            He thought for a moment, looking at the floor. “Consider…” It came to him. “Jeffrey Dahmer.” He looked back up at Luke, who was writing something else down. Calum could see that he was smiling, and was he nodding his head in approval? “Notorious sex offender and serial killer in the seventies and eighties, Dahmer’s offenses include sex crimes, murder, necrophilia, dismemberment, and cannibalism.”

            _Thank God I remember this,_ Calum had a moment to think. _Intro to Psych, you saved my life._

            “His psychopathy started at a young age when he would collect smaller animals that were already dead and mutilate them in various ways.” At the same time he was thinking _I don’t know what to do with my hands_ , he realized he was using them to speak, just as Luke had. “Dahmer committed his first murder in—”

            Oh crap. He couldn’t remember. Was is ‘87? Or ’78? Or neither…

            He had paused for too long. Luke wrote it down, he was sure. Calum blinked a few times, trying to get back on track.

            _Okay, forget the date. Say something else._

            “Dahmer’s first victim was Steven Hicks.” _Yes. That’s it._ “When asked his reasoning for murdering the hitchhiker, Dahmer responded by saying—” Calum snapped his fingers, giving a look of mock surprised confusion. It produced the desired effect: Luke smiled once more. “—that the guy—Hicks—wanted to leave and he didn’t want him to.” Calum shook his head for effect. “Dahmer’s crimes continue—involving a case of pedophilia and sixteen more murders, the bodies from which he would store in vats, sometimes preserving muscles and hearts to freeze for later consumption—all up until nineteen ninety-one, when he was arrested after his last would-be victim flagged down a police car.”

            Calum had said the last sentence with increasing vigor, speaking faster as he went through it. His heart was thumping hard in his chest. He didn’t know if it was more nerves or adrenaline. He realized now why he had chosen the con side. This was what he believed. He calmed his speech a little.

            “In trial, Dahmer attempted the insanity defense. He was quickly rejected and convicted of fifteen murder charges and given fifteen consecutive life sentences.

            “I believe that, no matter what disease of mind Dahmer had, what level of psychopathy he had reached, no crimes such as his should go unpunished. Some may have trouble sentencing a person who may not have known about their actions, but, at least in Dahmer’s case, many of the defendants are fully aware that their actions are against the law and harmful to others. And it was evident that Dahmer had no remorse for or justified intention behind his actions, considering his reasoning as to why he committed his first murder.

            “Some cases may be harder to understand, however. Jeffrey Dahmer was without a doubt clinically insane—he showed multiple signs of both psychopathy and borderline personality disorder.” ( _Was that the right one? Or is it antisocial personality…or narcissistic. No, not that one. Anyway…too late now._ ) “But in some cases, it is less clear whether the defendant is actually insane. This is where the choice of whether to allow the plea or not becomes even more difficult. Insanity, as serious as it may be, can be easily faked. And on top of that, the tests for determining insanity often can’t truly prove it. Some brain disorders have no outward physical effect on the brain, so a person may fake the behavioral changes a disorder may cause, and a physician would have no way to prove by examination that they were in fact lying.

            “This is one reason why some states do not even accept the insanity plea any more.” He couldn’t remember which ones, but it didn’t really matter. Luke was looking pleased, though he was trying to hide it. Calum was pleased with himself. “Rather, these states use “guilty but insane” verdicts, in which the defendant is institutionalized under their charges rather than being fully acquitted and placed in a hospital, as in the case of John Hinckley Junior.”

            _Oh shit_ , Calum thought, and couldn’t help but smile. Luke leaned back a little, pressed his lips together to keep from grinning, and wrote something down.

            “Would any of us prefer a true criminal, capable of faking an illness to get out of a sentence, to be acquitted, spend a few months getting unnecessary treatment paid for by us, and then released back into the public to do it all over again?”

_Recidivism_ , he thought. _This is why I’m on this side_. He felt his argument waning, and Luke had clicked his pen closed and folded his hands in his lap. Calum was almost done.

           “The line between clinically insane and criminally insane can be thin. But if a person commits such terrible acts as torture, cannibalism, pedophilia, and murder—committed or attempted—” he put his hand out to indicate another reference to Luke’s argument, “—justice should be provided. And when that line becomes too thin, too blurred, the insanity defense shouldn’t be considered.”

           Well, it wasn’t a very good conclusion, but now that the adrenaline rush was over, he was glad he was done talking. He sat back down.

           Luke had half a second to decide if clapping would be appropriate or not. That was some show. Yes, there were flaws, as there should be at this stage. But for someone who had never done something like that before, Calum was truly amazing. He decided not to clap.

           “That was very good. I’m very impressed.”

           Calum blushed. “Really? I kind of…felt it. You know?”

           Luke nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. And I can see you were serious about your position. I actually tend to lean towards con as well, though I know it’s not popular opinion. That’s why my argument was kind of…” He tilted his hand from side to side. Calum shook his head. “Anyway…yeah. Very nice. Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

           “One hundred percent,” Calum said. He was buzzing. Heat was radiating out from his solar plexus to the tips of his fingers and toes. He’d done well. Luke was proud of him. He was proud of himself. “I actually thought I might be able to argue the pro side better, but it isn’t what I believe. It was a hard choice.”

           Luke shook his head. “Never pick a side that you don’t believe in because you think you’ll win. Invariably the argument will fizzle out and you will lose.”

           “Oh—okay.” Calum nodded rapidly. Yes, sir. Of course.

           “Now, I do have notes.” Luke looked at his paper. “Just a few things I’d like to mention, good and bad.”

           Calum nodded again. Right. It wasn’t perfect, no matter how good it felt.

           “First, you used ‘I’ a few times, first person. Judges don’t like that. They think it sounds less professional. Personally, I think it sounds more believable, but judges want it to sound like what you’re saying already is. It’s not a matter of should, but will or won’t.”

           Calum nodded.

           “Second—and I think you know this—”

           “I paused that one time.”

           “Yes. A bit too long. Pausing is okay, but mostly we do it for effect. That comfort and surety of words comes with time.” He waved his hand to say _You’ll get there_. “The good thing, though, is that you picked back up well. You didn’t repeat anything, and you reentered the argument fairly smoothly. That was good.”

           “Thank you.”

           Luke nodded once. “Two more things, both about your argument. When talking about the “guilty but insane” charges, your argument wasn’t as sound as it could have been. Institutionalization could mean imprisonment or hospitalization, so saying the two were different isn’t quite correct. Small thing.”

           Calum nodded yet again.

           “Last thing was that you mentioned the people paying for institutionalization of defendants. If you’re going to talk about money or economics, you have to integrate that into your entire discussion, not just mention it once and then move on.”

           Wow. He should have known that. That one was just common sense. “Right.”

           “But again, small things. And there were some really good things, too. Like, when you came up with Jeffrey Dahmer. I definitely didn’t expect that, and it made your argument ten times stronger. Where did you learn about that?”

           “Intro to Psych.”

           “Ah. Good. That was good. Also, when you brought up my point about Hinckley. Like I said in class today, rebuttal isn’t rebuttal unless you talk about your opponent’s argument so,” he gave a thumbs-up. “Great job.”

           “Thank you, Luke.”

           Luke tried not to blush. He liked when Calum said his name. He’d forgotten that he’d told Calum to call him that.

           “And that’s it. Calum, you’re going to do very well in my class I think. You’re a very good speaker. You should talk more during lecture. I’m…” He looked around the room a bit. “I’m really glad you’ve been coming to talk to me.”

           “So am I,” Calum said. “My grade was plummeting. If my friend hadn’t suggested I see you…”

           “Who knows where you would have ended up?” Luke said, and then immediately felt horrible for saying it. Why did his brain produce those words?

           But Calum laughed. His eyes crinkled at the corners and Luke noticed his tongue sticking out between his teeth a little. Luke didn’t want to admit to himself how he felt about that.

            “Nowhere good, that’s for sure,” Calum said.

            Luke smiled nervously.

            Calum’s phone sounded from his backpack, a three-tone that Luke thought he maybe recognized.

            “Oh…sorry. Hold on,” Calum said, reaching for the phone.

            Luke nodded, waiting. Calum leaned down and his shirt hung away from his chest, exposing it a little. Luke averted his eyes and swallowed. Then Calum hummed something, the next few notes from the song from his phone. No, Luke didn’t recognize it, but he did remember one thing. He’d mention it in a moment…if he could get up the courage.

            Calum looked at his phone. It was a text from their coach:

 

‘Scrimmage with Northside bumped to next Thurs. We’ll have practice all day M T W, come to the field whenever you can before/after classes.’

 

            “Oh man,” Calum said.

            “What is it? If you don’t mind me asking.”

            “No, it’s fine. My football scrimmage was moved up to next week on Thursday. Were supposed to go immediately to practice on Monday through Wednesday.”

            Luke’s insides sank a little. “So you won’t be here Tuesday, I suppose.”

            “Well, I’ll certainly be in class.” He looked into Luke’s spring-blue eyes. He saw something there. Maybe it was just a reflection of himself. “But…my coach won’t notice if I’m a little late. He’ll think I was still in class. If I just don’t tell him…”

            Luke had to say things he didn’t want to say now. He wished he could just say _Great, I’ll see you then._ But he couldn’t. “Oh, that’s not necessary. You clearly don’t need more counseling from me.”

            Calum knew Luke didn’t mean that. Luke knew how to speak and convince, and that was not it. “It’s okay. I’m enjoying coming here a lot.” Wow. He’d actually said it.

            Luke couldn’t help but smile. He played with his fingers a bit. “If you won’t get in any trouble.”

            “Not if I don’t mention a thing.” He could see Luke was happy. “I’ll probably stay for a little less time though. Definitely need to practice for the game.”

            “Of course… When is the scrimmage, exactly?”

            Calum kept himself composed. No jumping around in excitement allowed. “I’m pretty sure it’s around four. Unless that changed too, but he would have said something probably.”

            “Probably.” Luke wondered, would it be weird if he asked if it was weird if he came? He thought it would be weird. Did he have anything to do on Thursday at four? He didn’t usually. Well, he’d wait and see.

            And now there was that other thing. He built himself up internally and decided to just say it. “One more thing before you go.”

            “Yeah?”

            “There’s…there’s this fundraiser that the Arts school does before winter break every year.”

            “Yeah, I think I may have heard about it.”

            “Yeah. It’s sort of like a talent show but it’s not a competition. Anyway, it’s like a teacher-student thing. You can do individual stuff or group stuff. Sometimes teachers with extra time set something up with their classes. Some do slam poetry or speeches or Shakespeare… Anyway, I know it’s—” _Don’t say it’s weird. Then he’ll just think it’s weird._ “Well, I was thinking we could do something with music, if you wanted to.”

            Oh God. He should never have mentioned it. At least not this early. He should have waited another week or two. When they were more familiar.

            But the thing was, he felt close to Calum already. That connection that had formed so easily on Tuesday. He wondered if Calum felt the same way.

            Calum thought for a moment, not wanting to seem reluctant. “Uh…yes. Yes, I think that would be cool.”

            “Really? I mean, you play and I play and you said you liked to sing so I just thought we could—”

            “Sure.” Calum smiled. Yes, this was very awkward, but he was still excited. Luke actually wanted to do this with _him_. It seemed…fun.

            “Great.” Luke flashed a grin, the same one he’d given Calum two days ago just after class. “I don’t know any details yet. Don’t even know what song we’d play. But…yeah.”

            “Okay,” and Calum smiled back. “We can talk about it on Tuesday if you want. When I come back for like ten minutes.”

            Luke laughed. “Yes. Right.” He stood and put out his hand again. “I’ll see you in class then.”

            Calum got his backpack and they shook hands.

            It was funny; this time around a handshake seemed too formal, too awkward. Both of them felt as though they were closer than a handshake, though neither knew the other was that comfortable at this point. So a handshake it was. Maybe soon it would change.

            “Tuesday,” Calum said.

            Luke nodded, wishing he could think of something to say, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t argue as well in front of Calum, he could barely mention a harmless university fundraiser in front of Calum, and he couldn’t think of something smart to say as Calum left. Apparently Calum had an effect on his words.

           Calum left the office, closing the door quietly behind him.

 

…

 

The rush was even better this time. Calum thought he’d felt accomplished two days ago, but today… There wasn’t a way to describe it. Luke definitely had an effect on his words. Luke’s presence made his words greater, amplifying them as if there were an audience of ten thousand ready to listen to everything he had to say. And what he’d said today had felt important. His sense of self-pride was strong, and his sense of gratitude for Luke was even stronger.

             As he headed down Capitol Road, away from the office in H Building once again, Calum was floating six inches off the ground. In the midst of his chemical-flooded brain, his neurons picked up the appearance of a familiar tuft of blue hair. It was that one guy again: same hair, same black jeans, same worn-in boots, same backpack. The only difference was his sweater—now striped black and white instead of just maroon, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows—and the direction he was heading. This time he crossed the street, dodging people, heading towards the Union Center, where most big university functions and all basketball games were held.

            Most of the people were headed the other way, back out to the parking lot across Capitol. Calum saw some students, but mostly it was adults—lots of professors wearing nametags. Must have been some district event for the universities. Maybe a seminar.

            The guy with the blue hair and the sweater was still moving towards Union Center. For some reason interested, Calum watched him. The guy walked on a little bit down the sidewalk, then came to a stop, facing the street perpendicular to Capitol. Calum thought he was waiting to cross, but then he realized that he had stopped _next_ to someone. It was another guy, wearing a blazer and perfectly-tailored pants. He had a wide-brimmed black hat on. They faced away from Calum, possibly talking, but they didn’t move much. Then blue hair leaned sideways, putting his face very near the other, turning his head easily so as not to knock the brim of the hat.

            Calum stopped walking. He sidestepped a little to get out of the way of the other people. He watched as blue hair whispered something in black hat’s ear. His mouth came extremely close. If Calum wasn’t mistaken, he’d say that his lips actually touched that little curl of brown hair that hung down over the latter’s ear beneath the hat. Then blue hair stood up straight again, still looking forward, and black hat shifted on his feet. Calum couldn’t read his body language. He looked…embarrassed? Surprised? Calum got his answer when black hat turned and looked at blue hair. His face was red and he was trying to hold back a smile. He opened his mouth to say something, even putting up a finger at blue hair, but then he just nodded and turned forward again. The two parted ways.

           As much as he felt like a voyeur, Calum was also a little wiggly inside, like he’d felt when Luke had essentially complimented him that morning before they’d debated. Obviously those two men were close—closer than the one in the hat had maybe wanted it to look like just then. And there was something else—two things, actually. When the one in the hat had turned sideways, Calum had seen a nametag on his lapel. He couldn’t read what it said, but it was clear that he was a teacher of some sort. From a different university? Or this one? And the second thing…Calum thought he recognized him. He looked a whole lot like the guy from Luke’s profile picture that he’d seen yesterday morning. Same hat, same hair as far as he could tell. He didn’t really see his face but…he was pretty sure it was the same guy. And he was pretty sure that the one with the blue hair was not a professor or a TA. Just another student. Just like Calum.

          So here was a student and a teacher, the student coming very near to brushing his lips against the teacher’s ear while whispering something to him. The teacher becoming stiff, trying not to react ( _because they were in public?_ ) and turning red with embarrassment yet grinning at the same time, looking slightly up at the student with some shiny look in his eyes.

          So this was what Calum knew. First, the guy in the hat most likely worked at this school, if he was friends with Luke. Second, the guy in the hat probably wasn’t Luke’s boyfriend. Third, he probably _was_ in some form of relationship with the guy with the blue hair. Whether it was academic or platonic or what, Calum wasn’t sure, but he could take a good guess. And last, a student was closer with a teacher than Calum had ever seen outside of movies or books.

         He felt a little dirty having witnessed this interaction, which he was pretty sure was supposed to be inconspicuous. But still there was that wobbly feeling in his stomach, those fabled butterflies. And something else too. Something hotter that wanted to crawl up his spine and drill its way into his amygdala. Something little and sharp and green-eyed. But it wasn’t directed at them, and it was just a feeling.

         He told himself it was nothing. He told himself everything was just a coincidence. He told himself these things did not happen in real life, were not _possible_ in real life. He told himself to stop imagining himself in a situation like that which he’d just seen. He told himself to move on, keep walking, vacate the area, _forget_ about it.

         But the brain cannot tell the brain what to think or do. It got his legs to move, and did nothing else he had asked.


	4. A Call

The following four days went by in a blur.

            Football continued to come easily to Calum. The coach continued to be impressed, and decided that if it stayed this good, he would bump Calum to that position he deserved come Thursday before the game.

            Peter continued to watch Chad and the tenures. The tenures continued to watch Calum. The situation did not improve.

            Luke continued to think of things he could say to Calum, ways he could challenge him to think. He continued to be nervous that Calum wouldn’t need him anymore. He continued to consult with Ashton, but he had yet to mention the elephant sitting on his chest to his best friend. Maybe because he couldn’t see it yet, only felt it.

            Calum continued to play football, play bass, write lyrics, and listen to music. His grades continued to improve in all of his classes. He continued to enjoy debate, and to think of things he could say to Luke. He continued to worry that he might not impress Luke any further—that he would peak and drop. And of all things involving his teammates, he continued to be oblivious.

 

…

 

And then Tuesday’s class was suddenly here.

            Calum had moved up two more rows. Now he was only four rows from the front. He noticed Luke noticing. And if the other kids were looking at him weird, so what? He could sit where he wanted. This was where he wanted.

            He took his notes and listened, watching Luke move lithely across the floor, watching Luke’s shirt come slowly more and more untucked as he reached higher up the board to write.

            At one point Calum tasted copper. He frowned and ran his tongue over his lower lip and realized he’d been biting it to the point of breaking the skin. Two reasons he did that: focus and interest. Well…he must have been really focused.

            Luke put down the white chalk and picked up blue. “All right, everyone. Bring this in on Thursday for me.” He began to write an assignment in the lower right corner of the board.

_Is class over already?_ Calum thought. He swore they got shorter and shorter every time. Maybe because he was enjoying it now? He looked at the clock on the wall. No, Luke was ending class eight minutes early. Just as Calum was thinking he was disappointed, his brain came up with another explanation: eight minutes subtracted from class time meant eight minutes added to office time. But that probably wasn’t it. No. He was delusional. He wrote down the assignment.

           “This one’s a bit more structured than your last, yes?” Luke said, packing up. “You can still write about anything you want, but I want you to actually give me the pros and cons of each side. Don’t bullet them; I want full paragraphs. But don’t write me ten pages either.” He glanced up at Calum. On reflex, Calum pouted out his lower lip a little— _But I_ want _to write ten pages!—_ then wondered why he’d done it. Luke cleared his throat and shut his bag. “Uh…write like you’re actually debating. But again, any subject—appropriate, please—is fine. You don’t have to rebut yourself or anything. Really, I’m getting you to be able to see both sides of a topic, because when we start debates, sometimes you get to choose your side and sometimes you don’t. Have a good day. See you all Thursday.”

           And the hall began to empty once again. This time, Luke waited in an obvious manner at the front of the hall. Calum didn’t need the hint. He was already walking against the stream of like-minded tadpoles eager to get out of the water, and all he wanted to do was sink deeper into

_(Those ocean-blue eyes)_

           this ocean that was the academic world.

           “Sure is funny we ran out of material so long before class was supposed to end, huh?” Calum said.

           Luke blushed a little; Calum was not ignorant. He wanted to say _Oh, you got me. Just thought we’d have a little more time together, you know?_ But he could only shrug and say, “Uh…I guess so,” and smile shyly.

           Calum smiled back, confused once again by the vast difference between Professor Hemmings and Luke. “Should we head over before I have to run to practice?”

           “Yes. That would be just fine.”

           Luke gestured forward and Calum led the way.

 

They couldn’t help but talk. As awkward as their conversation was at this point, any silence was even worse. So they came up with little things.

           “Have any ideas for the assignment yet?” Luke asked.

           “I do, actually. I was thinking…you’re going to laugh.”

           “No! I won’t laugh. I did say any topic. It’s not, like…weird, is it?”

           And Calum was the one to laugh. “No, no, of course not. I was actually thinking video games.”

           Luke opened his mouth, closed it to reconsider, then just said, “Video games?”

            “I know. But I’m taking a psychological angle. Apparently that’s what I’m good at, right?”

            Luke nodded, smiling. “Seems that way.”

            “So I was going to discuss the controversy over video games teaching kids good or bad things. Behavioral effects and stuff.”

            That was actually really good, Luke thought. He couldn’t wait to read it. “Nice.”

            Calum smiled. “Yeah. I mean…well, I used to play a lot of FIFA before I was in university and when I was really young. To be completely honest, as weird as it sounds, it taught me a good bit about football. Got me into the game, really. So that’s kind of an example I might use for a pro. But then there’s all the stuff on the news about violent video games—Call of Duty and Halo and things like that—that are said to make kids more violent and desensitize them to traumatic experiences. So that’s, like, a con. I guess.”

            “No, yeah,” Luke agreed. “You came up with all that just now when I wrote the assignment up?”

            Calum shrugged. “That’s kinda how it works for me. Either the idea hits me immediately, or I’ll have no clue what to do for a week and then suddenly it’ll hit me while I’m in the shower or something. And I’ll be like _yes_ , that’s the one.”

            Luke thought about that phrase, part of the ironic process theory of mental control: don’t think about a pink elephant. Of course, we all immediately think of a pink elephant. He was telling himself not to think of Calum in the shower.

            “Uh…r-right. Yeah I usually—” he shook his head a little, “I usually have to develop an idea over time. I’ll get a bit of a thought and then I’ll build on it.” He cleared his throat again and looked at Calum. “Your way seems far more expedient.”

            Calum laughed. “I suppose so.”

            They walked in silence for a little. Even with the sounds of the cars on the asphalt and the campus buses and the wind in the trees and the students on the bricks, the silence was heavy. Within the span of a few seconds, Luke thought all at once how talented Calum was in this subject and how great he’d been doing in the office and in class and how quick his mind was and how much he liked to see him and he wondered if Calum would want to sign up for the big debate in Feldmann in a group or maybe even individually and he thought that maybe he should ask him right now.

            But in the next second he reconsidered. He thought it still might be a bit too soon. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Calum away from debate forever by overwhelming him.

            They turned a corner, and H Building was in sight. He tried to come up with something else to say. Calum beat him to it.

            “Have you ever heard of The Brobecks?” he asked.

            Luke tilted his head. He was about to say that he might have heard something from them a while back when—

            Calum’s phone suddenly started to ring in his pocket. “Jesus, again?” Calum said. “I’m really sorry.” He looked at the caller ID, thinking it might be his coach telling him he was majorly late, but it wasn’t. “Oh. It’s just my friend. I’ll call him back.”

            “It’s fine, Calum. I mean, unless you’d rather.”

            “Either way. Actually, it might be about football…I should probably…”

            Luke waved his hand and smiled. Calum made an apologetic face and opened the call.

            “Hey, Pete. Mind if I—”

            “ _Calum_. Pick up your phone, man! Cal—Jesus what do I… Cal, you need to talk to Coach. As soon as you can.”

            Peter sounded flustered. Calum frowned. He stopped walking, and Luke turned to face him. “Why? What happened?”

            “You just need— _ow_.”

            “Peter? Are you okay?” He crossed his arm over his chest and looked at Luke. Now Luke looked concerned too.

            “I’m fine. Just talk to Coach. And try not to run into Chad or his guys okay?”

            “Peter, what _happened_?”

            Luke put his hand out, not knowing what he was supposed to do with it. He put it on his hip instead.

            “Talk to him,” Peter said finally. “I’ll see you tomorrow, buddy.”

            “What about later?”

            Peter had hung up. Calum took the phone away from his ear, looked at it blankly for a moment, and returned it slowly to his pocket.

            “Is everything okay?” Luke asked.

            “I don’t know. That was my friend, Peter…he’s on the team with me. He sounded really nervous or something. He sounded like…said ‘ow’…”

            “Is he hurt?”

            “I have no idea. He said I need to talk to my coach ASAP. I don’t know what’s going on. I think I better go.”

            “Of course,” Luke said. _And let me know if everything’s okay._ “I hope everything’s okay.”

            “Me too…” Calum was staring at the ground, trying to figure out what could have happened. Now he looked back up at Luke. “I’ll see you Thursday, Luke.”

            Good luck, Calum? Be careful, Calum? “Okay. Go.”

            Calum nodded, and turned to make a beeline for the practice field.


	5. 451

Calum found his coach in the foyer leading into the locker rooms. He could hear some of the other guys in there. Probably the seniors. Calum caught his breath and, not sure how to start, went to his coach.

              “Hey, Coach. Something you wanted to talk about?”

              The coach looked over at him. “Calum…that was quick.” He made a face and tried to cover it up. “I mean…I wasn’t expecting you this early. Don’t you have class?”

              So there was definitely something going on. What was he missing? “My teacher let us out early.”

“That’s…”

              Chad and 12 came out of the locker room. Calum could see that Chad had two knuckles bandaged on his right hand. What…?

              The coach put a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s talk outside.”

              They went out to the practice field, standing at the faint 30-yard line for the football team.

              The coach crossed his arms and didn’t face Calum directly. He looked off at the bleachers on the other side of the field.

              Calum was waiting for him to say that his improving grades still weren’t enough. That he wasn’t allowed to play in spring. Or that something terrible had happened to Peter and he’d have to cover his position the rest of the season because Peter would be out. But none of that was said.

              “Some of the guys on the team seem to think…” The coach paused, thinking. He finally faced Calum. “Listen, Calum. There’s a reputation that this team needs to uphold for the university and the district, and someone like you might not be right for that.”

              Calum was confused. “Someone like me?” The coach looked down at the grass. And suddenly Calum understood. What Chad had meant when he said people might ‘disagree with his taste.’ Why Peter had been asking about what Chad had said to him. Why Peter seemed out of it when he was watching the older guys, and just why he had been watching them so closely. Watching them watch Calum himself. Now he understood.

              He did his best to stay calm, but the match was lit. “You mean because I’m gay.”

              The coach flushed, but he held his ground. “You know it’s atypical in professional sports.”

              What was that even supposed to mean? He started to singe: _two hundred degrees_. “First of all, we’re not pros. And what’s wrong with atypical? Am I a different person, a different player, if I like guys?”

              The coach sighed. “It’ll cause issues with the team dynamic now that the boys know.”

              “Team dy…are you serious?” _Three hundred…_

              “Calum, this isn’t your place to be arguing.”

              _Four hundred_. “The fuck it is!” He threw his arms out.

              “Excuse _me_. You’re not helping your case.”

              No, he wasn’t. He sighed; _one hundred_. “Sir, this isn’t fair. I’m no different than I was last week before anyone said anything.”

              “I know, Hood…”

              Something came to him. “Oh my God…” He’d seen him reject that girl last week. He’d told him he needed to rethink. And then, when Calum had reached his level, he’d gone to the coach out of jealousy and…oh what a _dick_.

              _Four hundred fifty-one_. He caught fire. “It was Chad.”

              The coach flinched and tried once again to hide it. “I’m in no place to disclose information about other students.”

              “Fuckin’ knew it.”

              “Calm down.”

              “No, I won’t. It wasn’t his place to say shit about it. What did he tell you? What did he make me out to be? You know there’s tons of men in sports coming out these days and they’re doing just fine. They’re being _praised for it_. But somehow I’m less? What is wrong with this system? What’s wrong with _you_?”

              The coach straightened. He was red, and Calum knew it was part anger but mostly embarrassment at being called out. “I won’t take disrespect like that. Calum, I may have to—”

              Calum laughed. “I won’t take disrespect like _this_.”

              “Calum, you’re off the team if you don’t shape up.”

              Calum couldn’t believe this. “Shape up? Am I supposed to mold myself into a different person? Change who I was born as?”

              The coach sighed again, rubbing the bridge of his nose. In truth, he didn’t like to do this—Calum was a star. But the other guys had a problem. Look at what they’d done to Peter for trying to protect his friend, and he wasn’t even the gay one. He felt so bad about what had happened, and he felt worse about what it was forcing him to say to Calum. But he couldn’t lose his seniors, and he couldn’t lose the team. He shook his head. “I don’t know Calum. Figure something out. But I’m not having this ruin my team.”

              Calum could see that the coach was unhappy. And not with him—with the situation. Suddenly, all his anger turned to ash. He felt like crying. He didn’t. “What am I supposed to do…” He ran his hands through his hair. “Can’t you do something to them? Or…about them? Why me?”

              “You know there’s nothing I can do. They’ve been here four years. Some of them…I shouldn’t say this, but some of them are here because they’re paying to be here. Know what I mean?” Calum nodded. “I’m sorry. I’ll figure something out, but I can’t risk taking them off for the season. Meantime…you don’t have to convince me, but you have to make it so they see you as you were before. Or as they thought you were before.”

              Calum choked. “That’s not going to happen.”

              “I’ll talk to them. Believe me, I will. But I say…impress them. You’ve already impressed me. But they need to think that without you, they have no shot.”

              Calum nodded again. He heaved out a breath. The coach was a good guy, but he was nailed down just as much as Calum was here. “Am I in on Thursday?”

              The coach smiled a little. “Of course you’re in. I may not start you though. I’ll probably end up putting all seniors and some juniors in first. Try to get past this shitstorm.”

              “Okay.”

              The coach put a hand on his shoulder again. “I think it’s best for everyone if you skip out today. They’ll think you’re out, I know you’ll be fine without one day of practice, and you can go see Peter. He might be in the—” he looked at his watch, “well actually, he’s probably home by now.” He gestured with his chin.

              Calum, polite as he was, refused to thank his coach. “Okay.”

              “Be here tomorrow.”

              “I will.”

 

Calum knocked on the door of Peter’s single dorm in Fletcher Hall. He waited a moment, hearing footsteps. Peter swung the door open. There was a butterfly bandage above his left eye where the skin had split when Chad had punched him. Around the socket vessels had burst under the skin and the bruise was dark.

              “Hi, Cal—”

              “Fuck me, look at your eye!” He put his hand up to Peter’s face but didn’t touch the wound. “Nah, fuck _them_. They did this to you and I’m the one at risk of getting kicked off?”

              “Are you kidding me?” Peter said. “Coach really said that to you? Wow. I’m pissed.”

              They both went inside and sat at the little table in the dining area.

              “Can’t believe this. What happened?” Calum asked.

              “Well, I finished class and I headed out to the field and I went in the locker room. Chad and the other seniors were already in there—said they got let out of their classes but I think that’s bullshit. Anyway, I overheard them talking and they were saying how you were getting too good. They sounded scared for their spots, if I’m being honest. And they should be.” He gave Calum a smile. Calum nodded for him to continue. “So Chad was like, ‘If we tell Coach he’s gay and say that we won’t do shit until he’s gone, I bet he’ll kick him out’. What a piece of shit. I said that last part out loud.”

              “Oh God.”

              “I stepped dramatically around the corner and defended you and got right hooked for it. Bad aim, Chad’s got. You’re supposed to hit the jaw.” He laughed humorlessly. “And Coach barely said a thing. Just pulled them off and was like, ‘Get to practice’. And I went to the infirmary.”

              “Christ…Coach says he’ll do something about it. Talk to them.”

              “I’m sure that will help,” Peter said sarcastically.

              “Yeah…”

              “What about you? Are you off?”

              “Not yet. He says I need to convince them somehow that they, like, need me.”

              “We do need you. You’re getting so good it’s insane. I’m so impressed.”

              Calum’s mind flashed to Luke saying the same thing, and felt something go up his spine. But now wasn’t the time.

              “I just don’t know what to do. Like, I can’t just suddenly change.”

              “You shouldn’t have to.”

              “I know. At least I’m in on Thursday.”

              “First string?”

              Calum shook his head. “Doubt it.”

              “Well, whatever. Just watch: the seniors are gonna do shit in the first bit and then Coach’ll be forced to put you in and you’re going to turn everything around.”

              “Wouldn’t that be the perfect movie.”

              “Wouldn’t it just.”

              They didn’t say anything for a bit. Then Calum asked, “Have you told Olivia yet?”

              Peter thought of his girlfriend an hour away in Adelaide. “Liv doesn’t need to know this happened. I’ll be better in a week or two.”

              “And what if you get a scar from that?”

              “I guess I’ll explain it when I see her, then.” Peter put his face in his hands. “I wish I could see her.”

              Calum watched his friend—hurt, helpless, and now lonely, too. His friend that had stuck up for him and taken a beating because of it. “Tell you what. How about I get out of your hair and you call Olivia. FaceTime her if you think she’ll be all right, and tell her what happened. Maybe leave out that it’s because of me this all happened. She’ll hate me for it.”

              Peter shook his head. “No. Liv would never get upset about something like that, wouldn’t hate you for something you couldn’t have helped. She’s too nice. And she likes you. Besides, I’ll look like a hero.” He half-smiled.

              Calum returned it. “Okay. Whatever you want, dude. Anything I can get you?”

              “I’m not paralyzed, Cal. I’ll be okay.”

              Calum laughed. “Right. Sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow? Or Thursday?”

              Peter sighed. “Yeah. I’ll probably be there tomorrow, even though I could skip if I wanted. But yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

              “Great. Bye, Pete.”

 

Calum caught the bus back to his dorm hall. He went up to his room, still roommate-free, and sat down on his bed. He took out his phone and called the only person who always made him happy.

              “Hey, hon. How are you?”

              “I’m good, Mali.”

              “You don’t sound so good.”

              “Well…I—” He started to cry. His friend was hurt, he was losing his chance at football, and now he realized how much he missed his family.

              “Calum? What’s wrong? Tell me everything.”

              So he did. He told her how his grades were dropping and how Peter said he should talk to his teacher. He told her how he’d really taken to debate. He told her how much he was enjoying talking to his teacher and how much it had helped him. He told her how he was so sure that football was going to be okay since he was doing better in all his classes. He told her how Peter had been watching the others and how oblivious he had been to all of it and what had happened because of it.

              “That’s ridiculous. There’s no way you should have known that was going on. It should never have been going on at all.”

              “No, but I didn’t _see_ it, Mali. And now Peter’s hurt and I might get kicked off and there’s nothing I can do but change myself. I have to if I want to stay in football.”

              His sister said nothing. He waited. Years seemed to go by before he said, “Mali?”

              “You know why I’m not saying anything.”

              “Because…because you’re going to say I’m wrong.”

              “ _So_ wrong. Never say that you should change yourself, Calum. Everyone loves you exactly how you are.” He was about to protest and say that clearly not everyone did but Mali kept going. “You’re beautiful, you’re smart, and you’re so incredibly talented at so many different things. Look how easily you picked up this new skill with just a little help from your teacher—Hemmings, was it?”

              “Yes. Luke.”

              “I like that name—it’s kind.” Calum thought so, too. “But listen to me. Don’t change. Don’t ever change. You’re going to be fine. You’re so good at football it’s not even funny. They do need you. They’ll see it once you’re not there.”

              Calum sniffed. “Hopefully.”

              “Definitely. Have you written anything new lately?”

              Calum smiled. “A few things here and there.”

              “Sing me something.”

              “All right.

 

              “ _Does it have to be this tragedy, this endless lost parade, a castle a façade of make believe? The truth is spelled out in your eyes, why don’t you just reach out and make it clear to me?_

              “That’s all I have of that so far.”

              “That was amazing. You should add ‘what are you telling me’ to the end.”

              Calum could hear it already. He sang the phrase. “That’s perfect. I’ll write it down.”

              “Good.” They both paused. Calum could feel his sister on the other end of the line and he wished he could give her a hug. “I miss you,” she said.

              “I miss you too, Mali. And Mom and Dad and everybody.”

              “Come see us over break, okay? You’re only a few hours out.”

              “Yeah like five.”

              “You know what I mean.”

              He smiled. “I love you.”

              “Love you too, Calum.”

              “I’ll see you later.”

              “Soon.”


	6. In Too Deep

Calum sat at the desk he shared with his roommate. He was trying to do his assignment for Luke’s class, but the words just weren’t coming out of the pencil. The great idea he’d shared with Luke the day before had left his mind almost entirely. All he could remember was that it had to do with video games. And at this point, after everything that had happened yesterday afternoon and knowing that today was going to be just as hard during practice, he felt no desire to try and remember his idea or even do the assignment at all. He also had thirty problems for math to do, but he didn’t even bother to open them on his computer.

              _Situation, no motivation_ , he thought, and wrote that down in the notebook where he put his lyric and melody ideas.

              He knew in his mind that this meant he was right back where he started: focusing too much on football and not enough—not at all—on schoolwork. Luke would be displeased. But Luke didn’t matter right now—football did. His position was in jeopardy and he had to do something about it.

              He spent five minutes scrawling down a paragraph for Luke’s assignment, then put it away to turn in tomorrow. He’d already been to his Psychology and Performance class early that morning, and he decided he could skip math today. He changed and bussed out to the practice field.

 

He spent nearly five hours at practice. Peter was there, but he sat out for about half of it because he kept getting headaches. He promised Calum they’d be gone by tomorrow for the game, or that he’d take some meds for them. Calum just wanted Peter to be okay. But Peter was stubborn, and Peter was going to play tomorrow no matter what Calum said. Calum only shook his head at him, thinking how much he admired his friend.

              Calum had all eyes on him constantly. Apparently word had gotten around to the rest of the team about the incident, and everyone wanted to know who was going to do what next. Nobody was hit, thankfully, but Calum got knocked around once or twice by the tenures, and he was only passed the ball by sophomores or freshman. And yet, it was all motivation for him. He worked harder, sweated more, ached more, and scored every time he got the chance. He would steal the ball from the older players when they went against each other in teams, although he didn’t get to do so with Chad. Chad was a force, and it still appeared that Chad was doing everything to spite Calum. And for what reason, truly?

              The coach watched. He saw how well Calum was doing. He decided to talk to the seniors again. He decided he would make sure they knew Calum was not going to be leaving this team. He started to realize that if the older guys were going to threaten to leave or tell the Recreations board, then he could say fine, go ahead. And they would do nothing about it. They needed the team just as much as he did. This was all of their lives, or at least a huge part of it. Calum would be in, if not first string then as soon as possible after that. The second a senior messed up, Calum would step out to replace him.

              By the end of the day, Calum was exhausted and revved, sunken and elated, all at the same time. All he felt was that football was his element, and when he was in it, nothing else mattered.

              Deep down in his chest he could sense the pang of something. Something telling him this wasn’t quite right; something was missing. That he was shirking some responsibility or leaving someone in the dust. Was this everything?

              He ignored it. Unaware that the coach had already made his decision, Calum told himself that all he needed to do was focus on this because, if he didn’t, the scrimmage might not turn out, and Coach might kick him off. _Would_ kick him off. At this point, that was the only outcome Calum could see if he didn’t do well tomorrow.

              And now he was tired, and he needed to rest so he could breeze through tomorrow’s classes and get back out to the field.

              But wait—he still had to go see Luke. Well, he didn’t have to, but he still wanted to. He liked talking to Luke.

              He didn’t even remember that his assignment from that morning was barely coherent, much less cohesive. His mind was ninety-five percent football and the things surrounding it, and five percent Luke. Nothing else would fit.

              He went back to his dorm.

 

…

 

Luke dismissed the class five minutes before time was up.

              Calum didn’t notice. He was thinking about a play that had been made at practice the day before, realizing if he had just shifted sideways a few feet, turning his body a bit, he could have stolen the ball from 7, another of Chad’s little posse. But he hadn’t done that, and 7 had juked him, passed to Chad, and the goal was made. Damn.

              The majority of the class had filed out already when Calum finally looked up from his thought bubble. Luke was standing at the front of the hall, shifting through the stack of papers that were the assignments everyone had turned in. Luke glanced up at him, and Calum shot him a smile. Luke sort of smiled back. He ticked his head sideways, calling Calum over to see him.

              Calum put his notebook—barely anything written on it from today’s lecture—back in his backpack. He went up to Luke.

              “One second…” Luke said. He found in the stack of papers the one he was looking for. Of course, it was Calum’s. He looked up at Calum, and he didn’t look pleased.

              Oh…crap. Calum’s shoulders fell. He knew he’d done a shit job on that assignment. At the time he hadn’t cared, hadn’t even been thinking about it, truthfully. He’d just had his mind on football. Rightly, though. Football was a big deal right now. But still…he knew Luke wasn’t happy. And he felt bad for giving Luke something that wasn’t his best.

              “Calum…I’d like to talk about this,” Luke said. He’d collected the papers at the beginning of class, and had immediately searched for Calum’s while his students got settled in and read what he’d put on the board. He’d found Calum’s, excited to read about the psychological effect of video games, just as Calum had told him he’d be writing about. He wanted to see Calum’s words. He wanted to imagine Calum standing in front of him, presenting his points as if they were in his office. Or as if he were on stage, at the podium. He was smiling as he picked the paper out of the stack. But he knew right away that it wasn’t going to be what he’d been looking forward to for two days. The words were sloppy, and Calum usually had fairly neat handwriting. It was like he’d scribbled the whole thing out in a minute. And then Luke had read it—quickly, knowing class should be starting by now. But that was all he needed. The assignment was…

              “Calum. This is…not your best work.”

              Calum nodded, not meeting Luke’s eyes.

              So Calum knew it wasn’t great, Luke thought. That was good. And Luke knew that something must have been off, the way Calum had run off so quickly on Tuesday. Maybe something had happened with the team. It was a legitimate excuse for not doing as well. Problem was, he wanted to ask, but he knew he shouldn’t. It wasn’t his business, and it wasn’t appropriate for a teacher to be butting into a student’s private life. In high school, it was almost a teacher’s job: it was the law that if a teacher knew something was wrong with a student—home, family, mentally, whatever—that they do something about it. But this was a university, and Calum was an adult. So he wouldn’t ask outright. All he could do was wait to see if Calum brought it up himself.

              But he didn’t. “I know it’s bad,” he said.

              “Well…what happened? You seemed so prepared, so excited for it on Tuesday.”

              “I just…couldn’t focus.”

              Luke sighed, wishing Calum would open up to him. “This is…” He wiggled the paper around a bit. “It’s like you’ve reverted back to the beginning of the semester. It might even be worse than that.”

              Oh, God. Why had he said that? That was mean.

              And Calum thought so, too. _Little harsh, Luke,_ he thought. His brow furrowed. Everything bad started rushing into his brain all at once. The beginning of the year, his failing grades, his coach saying he’d be kicked off, his friend hurt in the infirmary, Chad’s bandaged knuckles and the shit-eating smirk on his face, his heart hurting when Mali had called and he couldn’t hug her, Luke’s disappointed face. And now Luke telling him he’d regressed. That he wasn’t smart anymore. That the assignment wasn’t good enough. That _he_ wasn’t good enough. Not good enough for the class, not good enough for Luke.

              Luke dropped his hands a bit, pulling the paper closer to him as if he could hide it. He saw the change in Calum’s face. He knew something was very wrong. Calum’s eyes were darting back and forth between his own. He wished he hadn’t said that.

              “I’m—” He started to apologize, but Calum cut him off.

              He was monotone, his eyes closed a little and his face lacking any expression save for a trace of anger. He spoke in bytes, a person tapping data into a computer. “It’s bad. I know. I’ll do better next time. I have to get to practice.”

              “Wait.” Luke put the paper on his desk, facedown. He tried to keep his voice professional, but he was a little frantic. He didn’t want Calum to leave. He wanted to talk about it. “I’m sorry, Calum. That was rude of me. I didn’t mean it like that.”

              Calum flicked his eyes up at him. They flashed something, but Calum seemed to suppress it. “I have to get to practice. My coach will be displeased with me if I’m late. Especially after…” He trailed off. Luke didn’t need to know. It wasn’t Luke’s business.

              But his chest hurt again. And Luke was looking at him now, the expression on his face changed from anger to apology to confusion and compassion all in the span of the last minute. He tried to hold his ground, tried to look Luke in the eyes and tell him with his mind, _Forget it. It’s not yours to ask about_.

              But Luke had to know. It wasn’t right, but he had to ask.

              “Calum, did something happen with your team? Or with your coach?”

              Calum sighed. He supposed he should tell someone. Luke seemed trustworthy. Maybe he just wouldn’t give the details. “There was a problem with some of the team members. Not really sure _why_ …” He shook his head. “And then our coach…he said I might get—”

              Now Luke cut Calum off. “Oh my God.” Luke had seen enough things in the papers and on the news about sports coaches, especially at the non-pro levels. What those coaches did to their teams. A terrifying thought came into his mind. “Oh my God…did your coach…did he…” He couldn’t even finish the question. He just moved his hands around.

              At first, Calum didn’t understand. But eventually it came to him, all at once. “ _What?_ No!” Now he was mad. That was just disrespectful. He felt violated just hearing that Luke thought his coach could have done that to him or any of his teammates. “That’s disgusting.” He crossed his arms and angled away from Luke.

              Luke put his hand to his forehead. “Thank God.”

              Calum turned back to Luke, infuriated. Did Luke not even care what he’d just implied by asking that? The coach was no criminal, certainly no sex offender. And Calum would never be so weak as to let that happen anyway. Did Luke think that? “I can’t believe you would even think something like that would happen.”

              “I just wanted to be sure.” Why was Calum so upset? He was just trying to look out for him. Just trying to help. “I just wanted to know you all were safe. I’m sorry. I should never have speculated like that. What did happen, then?”

              Calum sighed again, trying to get this conversation over with. “I’m at risk of getting kicked off the team.”

              “What? Why? I hear you’re very good.”

              “I am. But I’m also…” Did he really have to say it in front of Luke? In his head, he heard Mali telling him that he should never change. He heard her telling him years ago, when Calum had first understood who he was, that he shouldn’t be ashamed, that he was perfect just as he was and that nobody could change that. Yes. He would tell Luke. “I’m also gay.”

              He expected Luke to cringe away, to take a step back to distance himself from the abnormal. But he didn’t. To Calum’s surprise, he only said, “So am I. What of it?”

              Calum felt heat rush over his body. Both he and Luke were gay…that opened up some real possib—no. Not now. He was mad now. Luke was tightening strings that shouldn’t be pulled, kicking down doors to places he wasn’t allowed.

              He shook his head. “Because the other guys care for some reason. Team dynamic or some shit.” And before Luke could say anything else, he said, “Why is this any of your business anyway?”

              There it was, Luke thought. And Calum was right—it wasn’t his business. “I know. You’re right. I’m just trying to help you. Just trying to get to the bottom of what’s going on in your head that’s causing this shift.”

              _Shift?_ Shift in what? His intelligence? Oh, was he _reverting_ , as Luke had said earlier? Christ. “You know what. This doesn’t involve you. You’re just my teacher.”

              And it all came crashing down upon the both of them.

              Calum realized what he’d said, and he wished he hadn’t. As angry as he was, he still felt like Luke was more than just a teacher. But he couldn’t just let this slide. Luke was being so…so _maddening_. He’d stand his ground.

              Luke heard the words come out of Calum’s mouth. And he felt a knife plunge into his chest and turn, slowly, slowly, a hundred and eighty degrees. So that’s how Calum felt. And now Luke felt like crying. Why? He wanted to say, _But I feel like we’re more…friends at least…_ But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He nodded. “I understand.”

              “Fine.” Calum could feel his heart dropping in temperature. It felt awful. But he knew it wasn’t Luke doing it. He opened his mouth to say something, trying to cool down and stop being so angry.

              But Luke said quietly, “I hope you come back.”

              Come back? As in come back to the class? The office? Or bring his brain back to where it was before? Calum didn’t think Luke understood how inferior he was making him feel. Again, he tried to stay calm.

              “What do you mean?”

              Luke tried to say the right thing. Calum was on edge. His feelings were hurt and he was embarrassed about the assignment—that much Luke knew, though he also knew Calum would never admit it. But Calum also didn’t know how much he’d hurt Luke with what he’d said before. By putting him that low on his list.

              “I’m trying to say…Calum…you were meant for this. You know you were. I know it, too. But this assignment won’t cut—” He sighed. _Choose your words, Hemmings._ “You’re better than this.”

              Calum laughed humorlessly and shook his head, crossing his arms even tighter. “But I don’t _need_ this. I don’t.”

              _No, but I think I do. I need to see you. I need you to want to see me. I need you to want me_. Wait…what? Luke shook his head. Things were getting all jumbled around. Now he wasn’t making sense to himself. No. Luke couldn’t say any of that.

              “You do if you want to stay in football,” he said, then felt like throwing himself off a cliff. Calum shot him another look, hurt and angry. “I mean…I don’t want to seem biased here—and I’ve never seen you play—but…you need to stop focusing on football so much. This is important.” _At least, to me._ “And I know you can do this. Football is…” He waved his hand in the air, trying to say, _It’s easy for you. You don’t have to worry about it._

But Calum took the wave as, _It’s unimportant. Forget it. No one cares._

              “Are you serious?”

              “What?” Luke felt like screaming. He clearly wasn’t saying a single thing right. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t talk. Calum had that effect on his words and this time it was getting out of control. All he wanted was to say to Calum that he wanted to keep talking to him, that he wanted to see him after class and have mock debates with him, that he wanted to help him get a prime spot in the competition at Feldmann and maybe introduce him to his best friend, Ashton. That he wanted to be near him as much as he could. That he wanted to—

              Oh God. It hit him. He realized it, all at once.

              “What do you mean, what?” Calum said, sneering. “You tell me to forget something I love, that I’ve been doing for years and years since I was young, that I’m amazing at. You tell me I’m stupid—”

              Luke shook his head hard. “You’re not stupid, Calum. I never said you were.”

              “Close enough.” But he knew that was just wrong. Luke wouldn’t call him stupid. The both of them knew he wasn’t stupid. He looked around, unsure what else to say. He felt terrible, and he was furious. He just wasn’t sure who with. He knew he could apologize, but he didn’t want to. And as cool and sorry and confused as Luke’s eyes were, staring over at him, he was still mad. “I need to get going. My coach is expecting me.” This, at least, was truth.

              Luke wanted to apologize, but he also thought Calum should apologize. _What for, you idiot?_ he said to himself. _He has so many reasons to be upset, including that you’ve inadvertently insulted him at least three times. Your only reason is that your heart hurts._ So, that was it then. He didn’t know what else to say. And Calum was just standing there, glaring at him, while something else played underneath his gaze. Sadness? Shame? Regret? It didn’t matter now.

              “…Okay,” Luke said, looking at the floor.

              Calum shrugged his backpack on and walked out.

 

Standing there, arms hanging limp at his sides, Luke knew he’d made a huge mistake. He should have thought more before he’d spoken. _Did_ he call Calum stupid? He thought back to what he’d said… Maybe it sounded like he’d meant it that way. Of course he didn’t, though. He just wanted Calum to see that he knew he expected more from him. He knew that Calum could produce much better work than he had. But he understood the position Calum was in, and he understood that Calum was frustrated. He wished he could help. And the way he’d felt earlier… He should have called after Calum, kept him from leaving, and told him everything. Told him that…

              He had to admit something to himself. He had to get this weight off his chest or he was going to suffocate. It was dangerous. But he knew that once he allowed his brain to put the words together in one place, he would feel…something. Maybe better, maybe something else. But it would change things drastically. He decided it was time to tell himself the truth.

              He admired Calum.

              No, that wasn’t it. It was right, but it wasn’t right.

              He liked Calum.

              Closer…

              The words finally came together in his mind. They felt strange and completely wrong. But still…good. There they were. He loved Calum Hood.

              He knew it wasn’t right. Calum was a student. He just didn’t feel like one anymore. Calum had met with him a few times; Calum had connected with him so easily; Calum had fought with him, and Calum had left him feeling wrung out and rejected. That was certainly a trademark of the four-letter word, wasn’t it?

              Luke knew there were rules, but he couldn’t say with any certainty that he wouldn’t break them if given the opportunity to be, even just once, with—

              He stopped thinking about that and thought of something else. What did Calum feel? He couldn’t get his hopes up by thinking that Calum felt the same in any way. Why would he? No. Nobody ever felt that way about him. Luke couldn’t expect any different from this student he’d only really known for two weeks. He was crazy to think he could. And besides, Calum had said that he was just his teacher. Luke thought that might have been more just a slip of the tongue than anything else, something Calum said in a moment of surprise and anger and shame. But still, that was no reason to think that Calum liked him any more than as a teacher. It was all just a speculation.

              Calum probably was just glad he was doing well in his classes, glad he could stay in football, just like Luke had always thought he was. Although, that was on the line now, and Calum had still come to see him after class instead of just rushing out as fast as he could. But what did that really mean? Luke was still his teacher—it was only natural to discuss an assignment with your teacher.

              But…Calum said before that he enjoyed coming to talk with him.

              _Yes, but that doesn’t mean he likes you_ , he told himself.

              _But it could_.

              _But it doesn’t._

_You never know. And you won’t until you say something about it._

              Jesus. He needed to talk to someone. He needed to talk to Calum, but that wasn’t happening, clearly. No, he needed someone to talk to _right now_. All of his feelings were rushing up into his throat.

              He called Ashton.

              “Hey, Ash. Can you talk?”

              “Um…not really. Can it wait? I’m—” There was the sound of another guy’s voice on the other end of the phone. Maybe Ashton was in a conference. Shit, maybe he was with a student.

              “Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just…”

              “You free around, I don’t know, six tomorrow? I’m heading down to the bar by the bike shop. Meet me there and we’ll talk, okay? I’ve got…” The extra voice came through the phone again, a little closer. Luke listened as Ashton put his thumb over the speaker on his phone. There was some muffled talking, followed by a bit of silence. Then Ashton came back on the line. He breathed out, saying, “I’m in the middle of something.”

              “Until tomorrow?”

              “I’ve gotta go, Luke. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Ashton sounded urgent, like he was itching to get back to whatever he was doing. Must be some important conference, Luke thought.

              “Yeah, that’s fine.”

              “See ya,” Ashton said, and Luke heard, distant but distinct, Ashton’s giggle just before he hung up.

              “Well…that was helpful,” he mumbled to himself.

              Still, he did feel a little calmer. He sighed, and realized he was still standing where he was when he’d been talking to Calum; hadn’t moved an inch. He went to his desk and got his bag.

              Yeah, he’d be free at six tomorrow. He still wanted to go to the game at four, but it shouldn’t be more than two hours. He wondered what Calum would say if he saw him there. If he would say anything at all.

              God, what if Calum never talked to him again? Sure, he’d answer a question in class if Luke called on him, but what if he never came back to the office after today? Luke felt utterly rejected, and that was ridiculous. He’d never asked Calum for anything. There was nothing Calum could reject him for. All the same…

              He shook his head, knowing this was all he’d be thinking about for the rest of the day, maybe through the night. And he had all these papers to grade. Fuck.

              He drove back to his apartment. He gave everyone an A on their assignments, because yes, Calum was on his mind, and no, he couldn’t do anything to change it. He wished he knew how Calum felt about him. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t really love Calum, he just liked that Calum was so smart and so easy to talk with and had taken so well to the course. That this love at first sight—or first conversation, maybe—was just bullshit. But he knew he was kidding himself. He knew he was in way too deep. And he knew there were only two ways out: telling Calum and being truly rejected, or telling Calum and…not being rejected. But he knew that forgetting about it wasn’t an option. He’d have to say something. He’d have to talk to Calum again, even if Calum didn’t want to talk to him. That was all there was to it.

 

...

 

Calum put in his headphones and punched the shuffle button on his music. “Brain Stew” came on. How fitting.

 

_I’m having trouble trying to sleep_

_I’m counting sheep but running out_

_As time ticks by, still I try_

_No rest for cross stops in my mind_

_On my own, here we go_

 

              He knew that was how he would be tonight. His mind would be all over the place for the rest of the day, a jumbled mess throughout practice, throughout trying to get to sleep. Would Luke be the center of all his thought? Or would it be football? He knew which one he wanted to be thinking about right now, which one he felt was most important for tomorrow. Be he also knew which one would really be on his mind.

              Why had he _really_ gotten so mad? He was embarrassed and ashamed, yes, but it wasn’t the first time. He’d handled those things much better before. Maybe he was just mad because he knew he deserved better than what he was getting from his team and his coach. He was a good person. He was a good player. What did being gay have to do with it at all?

              And speaking of that…Luke said he was, too. Not that it really mattered but…it was interesting. Calum wouldn’t really have guessed. Yeah, he thought for a second that the guy in Luke’s profile picture on Facebook might be his boyfriend, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t. And now he knew otherwise about that guy anyway. No, he would have thought Luke was straight. Luke seemed like the kind of guy who, back in undergrad, would sit in the far front corner of a class, eyeing his thirty-seven-year-old English professor who was newly divorced from her husband and who would catch his gaze every once in a while. He would wear button downs like he did now but tighter ones that were only black. He would leave the top three, maybe four buttons undone, and his professor would catch the glint of a necklace dangling against his chest. He would meet her in her office one day after class—no, he would set up an appointment for another time, much later in the day when he knew there wouldn’t be anyone else around. He would see her in her office, get really close, leaning over her shoulder to look at that assignment he’d asked her about but already knew how to do. She’d feel his lip ring just barely touching her cheek…

              Great. Now Calum was both worked up and sickened at the same time. He didn’t want to think of Luke with a woman like that. He shook his head. Yep. He was definitely right about which thing would be on his mind all day.

              And he really wanted to forget about it. He was still upset. With Luke? Maybe. Luke hadn’t exactly been Mr. Nice Guy back there, telling him he was regressing, that his mind was shifting in some wrong direction, that he was better than that. Ugh. He imagined himself pushing Luke sideways, not a shove, but a sweeping away, out of the frame. Visualization usually helped him. He was pushing Luke out of his mind. He imagined himself kicking a goal. He imagined himself running across the field and jumping up, Peter spinning him around and then high-fiving him. They’d just won their championship game. Well, they’d at least won the scrimmage tomorrow.

              The visualization essentially worked. Luke was mostly gone, and all that was left was football and the crimson haze of anger draped over the back of his consciousness. All he had to do was keep it this way until the game was over tomorrow—until he’d secured his place on the team. Then he could think about Luke again. Then he could see Luke again.

            Until the game was over.


	7. The Game

Luke arrived fifteen minutes early to the game on Thursday, hoping to see Calum out on the field warming up. He walked past the railing of the stadium, looking down at the benches and water coolers and towels and first aid kits. He took a seat four rows up.

              Both teams were out doing drills, Northside in some intimidating black uniforms with thin yellow stripes, a big contrast from the light blue shirts of Calum’s team. Luke spotted Calum fairly quickly. He was as tall or taller than the other boys, but he wasn’t as big at the guys his height. He took his turn in the drill and ran back around behind the others, saying something to another guy—a bit shorter with glossy chestnut hair and a bandage above his eye. Luke briefly wondered if that was the friend Calum had been talking to over the phone. Probably.

              Luke opened the water bottle he’d brought, taking a sip. After a few minutes, the teams were called to their respective sides by their coaches. They huddled, were given their pep talks and initial instructions. And Luke watched as the first-stringers went onto the field to set for the first half of the game. He noticed that Calum, amazing star player that he was supposed to be, was not there. And, on that note, neither was his friend. What?

              Luke shook his head, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. This wasn’t right. Calum had been training hard and working to keep his grades up for this. Clearly he cared. So why wasn’t he out there?

              Luke realized suddenly that it was all about who Calum was, not as a player, but as a person. Calum had said that there was a problem because the “team dynamic” would be messed up because he was gay. Luke felt like going down there and smacking his coach. What the fuck did that have to do with anything? That didn’t change who Calum was. That _was_ who Calum was. And Calum was wonderful.

              Luke chewed his lip, angry and feeling for Calum. He could imagine him sitting down there on a bench right now, steaming because he wasn’t going to play.

 

Calum and Peter sat on the bench while the first-string seniors and juniors—Chad, 12, 7, and the like—all went out to get set for the coin toss and kickoff. Peter leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. Calum crossed his arms. He knew he wasn’t going to be in at the beginning but still…he was pissed. He took a deep breath and let it out.

              “How’s your head?” he asked Peter.

              Peter shrugged. “Good enough. Not that I’ll be playing anytime soon.”

              Calum shook his head. “Should be. Both of us.”

              “Tell me about it.”

              “Hood,” their coach called from the side. Calum looked up, and his coach waved him over. He stood and went.

              “Yeah?”

              “Listen. I talked to them. They know you’re not going to be off this team, and they know that there are going to be some serious consequences if anything like this ever happens again.” _Should have been this time,_ Calum thought, but he didn’t say anything. “But that won’t stop them from ragging on you. Do what you can, okay? Lucky for you, that’s a hell of a lot.”

              “I just need a chance to actually do it.”

              The coach nodded. “You’ll probably be in around, oh, halfway through the second half.” Great. Calum shook his head, knowing protesting wouldn’t do anything to help. “I know,” the coach said. But it was basically decided. “How’s Peter?”

              Calum shrugged. “All he wants is to play.”

              The coach clicked his pen against his leg. “Yeah.”

              “Will you put him in?”

              “He’s goalie, Calum. I can’t really say, unless Aaron really screws up.”

              Calum looked out at number 12, standing in front of the net. He only felt a little mean for thinking that he hoped 12 screwed up bad.

              “Okay.”

              The coach nodded again. He put a hand out to tell Calum he could return to his seat.

              “Any news?” Peter asked when Calum sat back down next to him.

              “He says second half of the second half.”

              Peter scoffed. “How generous.”

              “I know.”

              Calum remembered something then. He turned around, looking up into the stands. They were nearly full, so it took him a second to find Luke, but once he got to him it was obvious. Luke was sitting down, and he was wearing chinos and a button-up instead of shorts and a t-shirt like practically everyone else. Calum’s mouth curled in a smile, subconsciously glad that Luke had come to watch him. And then Calum remembered that he was mad at Luke. Luke had been awful to him…sort of. And Luke had called him stupid, sort of. Whatever. The animosity was still there. He turned back around.

              Peter was looking at him, but he looked away when Calum turned back. They both gazed out at the field. There was no announcer today, since it was only a scrimmage. The refs spoke from the field, and then the coin was tossed. Chad looked pleased and the ref pointed to their team. Northside would be kicking off first, then. Good.

              “Starting offense,” Peter said.

              Calum nodded. “What’s your feeling?”

              Peter pursed his lips. “Not sure. Good…but also bad. I don’t know.”

              “No, I get it. I feel it too.”

              “We’ll see.”

              Northside kicked off, and the game began.

              Calum watched as his team, currently instructed by Chad as leader, tried to pull a 3-5-2 formation. It was a solid form, emphasis on the wingbacks—7 and Joey, a junior. They had the most difficult jobs in this form, as there weren’t any more wingers in front of them for coverage. They’d have to work hard at this one.

              The ball was moving back and forth, and 7 was losing his step. He had the ball at one point and a member of Northside managed to steal and skim around him. The entire left flank was open. 7 had failed his job. Chad broke the form to try and cover the guy from Northside, but the distance was too much to make up. The guy in black kicked at the net, and 12 was just out of reach. Northside scored the first goal.

              Calum sighed. “Saw that coming.”

              “Three-five-two. It’s hard on the wings.”

              “Yep.”

              “Yep.”

              They looked at each other. They both sensed that things weren’t going to go well. But maybe Peter’s prediction back at his dorm would come true.

              Calum had a moment to wonder how in the hell he was supposed to “impress” the older guys if he wasn’t even on the field. It just wasn’t possible. That game had to be played too, and Calum wasn’t getting a chance to make any moves of his own. Something else might have to be done.

              The plays continued. The ball would be on Northside and then their team would steal and Northside would shift to a defensive form. Then the ball would change sides again, and Chad would have their team shift to defensive. It was subtle, but things were similar. Things kept happening the same way over and over again. Thankfully, Northside hadn’t scored again, though; unfortunately, neither had the university.

              “Boy, this is exciting,” Calum said.

              “Well, this _is_ football,” Peter answered.

              Calum laughed a little. “We could give a better game than this, though.”

              “Who knows? Maybe something interesting will happen. Maybe we’ll actually score and even it out.”

              Calum made a noise in his throat, doubtful. They both continued watching the field.

              Back and forth the ball went, until 7 had it in his feet. Calum watched, realizing his team was trying a new formation. Was that a…no.

              “Are they trying the two-three-five?” he said to Peter.

              “My God, they are. That’s insane. Such a new form. Half the time it doesn’t even work for the pros.”

              “Don’t need to tell me. Shit. Look at that,” Calum said, putting his hand out.

              The formation was not working. Pockets were opening everywhere and Northside was filling them in like cement. They intercepted the ball as 7 tried to pass to Joey.

              “Fff…” Peter couldn’t even finish the swear. The guy from Northside—huge, number 8—launched the ball at the net. Aaron—12—didn’t even have time to move. The ball came flying at him as he drew his arms up to his face, turning sideways a little. It didn’t do much to help. The ball struck him right above his left eye. His head snapped back, and he went sprawling to the grass. The ball rolled back onto the field.

              Now Peter could finish. “Fuck. Holy…”

              Aaron was down. Whistles were blowing everywhere, and refs and the coach were running over to him. After a bit of shaking, he sat up slowly, holding his head.

              “At least they didn’t score,” Calum said.

              “I think I’m in, Cal.”

              Calum looked over at Peter. “Right! Well…hey. If that’s what it takes.”

              Peter snorted laughter. “Savage.”

              “Go get ‘em.”

              Peter stood, waiting while the coach walked Aaron back and sat him down with an ice pack and a bottle of water. The coach looked around, saw Peter, and beckoned him. “See you soon,” Peter said, and went.

              “Hopefully,” Calum muttered. He watched as Peter went over and, before talking to the coach, knelt down next to Aaron and patted him on the shoulder, saying something to him. Calum thought what a good guy Peter was—he was always kind, if not a bit snarky, even to people who weren’t kind to him. Actually…this was a bit more than Peter usually did. Aaron was one of the guys who’d been in the fight with Peter over Calum. No way Peter forgave him…

              But then Calum realized what was really going on. This was a tactical play, a strategy for this second game they were taking part in. Peter was getting on Aaron’s good side, which would in turn bring Aaron to liking Calum better. This wasn’t just kindness—this was psychological warfare. Well, Calum thought, psychological peacemaking. Holy shit, Pete was brilliant.

              He jogged out to the goal, pulling on his gloves.

              The plays continued. Calum noticed again how things kept looking the same. Northside liked the 3-4-3 for defense. It seemed to be working, especially since Chad was having the guys use these difficult offensive forms. Calum put his head in his hands. Minutes went by, and the ball went out of bounds multiple times. Nothing was happening; no changes were being made in gameplay. Mexican standoff.

              Then, all at once it seemed, the ball was moving rapidly downfield. Northside had shifted their offense, and Calum’s team was caught off guard. Northside’s number 8 had the ball again, and he was dribbling, making passes, and receiving once again, sliding like butter past Chad and the other guys in blue. That guy was a monster, Calum thought. They’d need to pick it up on defense or something bad was going to happen. It was like the guys from Northside knew exactly where their opponents were at all times. Calum’s team were sitting ducks.

              Even from the bench, Calum could see the slight look of worry on Peter’s face. He knew the ball would be by him soon, and he didn’t know where he’d need to be when it got there.

              Here was 8, firing off another shot.

              Peter jumped and the ball clipped off his fingertips, but continued on. Northside scored again. Two-nil. The first half was over.

              The team came back over to the sidelines. The coach looked upset, but still slightly hopeful…maybe. Maybe Calum was projecting himself onto others. Jesus, he wished he could have been on that field. He stood to join the huddle, but it broke before he got there. He put his hands on his hips. Peter was talking with Joey for the time being.

              “Hey, Calum.”

              Calum stiffened. That was definitely Luke. Not too far behind him. Should he turn around? Well, it didn’t matter if he should or shouldn’t because his body wanted him to and he did. Luke was standing at the railing of the stands, hand up in a motionless wave. Calum walked slowly over to him, putting on a blank face, remembering how he felt about Luke right now.

              “Yes?”

 

              Luke leaned over the rail.

              “See what’s happening?”

              Calum rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Our team keeps using, like, the worst offensive forms possible. No way we can pull these off.”

              Luke tilted his head from side to side. “Well, that’s true.” Calum gave him a look that said, _Yeah, thanks for that information_. “But listen…” Luke continued. “What about the other team?”

              “What _about_ the other team?”

              “Well, look at the formations they’re using.”

              “Luke, if there’s something you want to say then just say it. I can’t just stand here talking to you all day.”

              Luke sighed. Again, only trying to help. “What keeps happening is that when they get the ball, you keep using the same _de_ fensive forms that they do.”

              Calum looked out at the field, as if a play was happening right now. “What…” He put his hands up to his head. “Ah shit. What are we doing?”

              Luke nodded. “They change up their offense, but whenever they’re on defense, they use a three-four-three. They’ve only used a different form one time. And it keeps working for them, and they get the ball and for some reason your team keeps forming the three-four-three and they know what you’re doing. That’s why they’ve scored twice already. They’re anticipating your moves, and you guys are so focused on the offensive that…” He put his hand out, and the sentence finished itself.

              Calum’s mouth was open a little. And now he was pissed. The seniors were supposed to be the best players out here, and what were they doing? Employing pro-level offenses that they couldn’t pull off, and then using the exact same strategy that Northside used for defense. And it was biting them in the ass.

              Luke looked Calum in the eyes for a bit. Then he said slowly, “What did we learn that first day you came to my office, Calum?”

              Calum looked right at Luke. “Two sides of an argument can’t be the same. Your opponent, if more experienced and more prepared, will have the upper hand.” His eyes widened. “We need to employ a new defensive tactic—no. Both. We need to fall back, simplify…” He looked at his hands. “A four-four-two. For defense. Simple formation. Used to be really popular.” He nodded to himself, setting the decision in his mind. “And…and—” He looked back up at Luke again. Luke saw excitement in his eyes. “A four-two-three-one when we get the ball back.” They smiled at each other. “Best formation in football, really.”

              Luke nodded. “I can’t believe they haven’t used it yet.”

              “Well, we’ll beat them to it.” He hit his fist against his knee in triumph. “Yes. This is going to work. I have to get in.”

              Luke cocked his chin towards the coach. “Go tell him. There’s no way he’ll keep you out.”

              Calum grinned up at him. He bounced on his feet for a moment, excited about the new play. Luke was still smiling, but it was soft—not so much an excited smile but one that conveyed…pride. Admiration. And even though Calum didn’t know it, love. Calum stopped wiggling, and the grin fell from his face. He stared at Luke for a bit. All of a sudden he felt like reaching up and hugging Luke as hard as he could, telling him how sorry he was for what he’d said on Tuesday and how glad he was that Luke had come to watch the game, and thanking him for everything he’d done, back in class, in the office, and right here in the stadium. He blinked. Luke was still smiling.

              And then his coach called for him, breaking any chance Calum had left to say anything else to Luke. The opportunity for a hug or an apology had passed by. He opened his mouth to say something— _anything_. But then he ran off, back to his coach and his teammates.

              Luke pressed his lips together, unsure of what Calum was thinking. He watched Calum go, then nodded to himself and went back to his seat.

 

Calum went to his coach. “I have an idea.”

              “I was hoping you might say that. We’re losing bad.”

              Calum nodded. “Put me in.”

              “What are you going to do?”

              “Put me in.” Calum wasn’t kidding around. He knew this was going to work. It had to.

              The coach looked sideways at him. He was a little uneasy; he didn’t know what Calum was planning. But Calum was really his best player, and the older guys really did need him now. He shook his head. He’d have to trust him. “Okay.” And he called everyone over.

              The new team was Calum, Chad, three more seniors, including 7, two juniors, two sophomores, and a lone freshman, Shawn, with Peter on goal. Calum was pleased. It was a good group; even Shawn had really stepped up the past few weeks. Calum gathered them around in a huddle.

              “Here’s what we’re gonna do.”

              “You’re calling the shots?” Chad interjected.

              Calum, wary of his temper, gave him a look, but nodded. “Coach put me in for this. We’re kicking off, which means we’re essentially starting defense. I’ll keep this quick, but what’s been happening is that they’ve been anticipating our moves from the start. We’ve been using the same defensive strategy as them and they’ve been getting past us for it.” He did his best not to glare at Chad to say, _Hear that? That’s your fault._ He managed not to. “So we’re going to use a four-four-two.”

              “ _What_?” Chad said. “That’s, like, the oldest form ever. It phased out forever ago.”

              “It’s the bread and butter of football. It phased out because it wasn’t fancy enough. But we’re trying too hard to be fancy, especially with our offensive forms—” he held back another glare, “—so we’re simplifying it down. We need to go back to the roots of the game.”

              “He’s right,” Peter said. “Besides, they’ll never expect it, it’s so simple.”

              Chad looked at 7, trying to find someone on his side. 7 only shrugged. “Okay then,” Chad said.

              Calum nodded. “Good. I want…you two—” he pointed at 7 and 2, a sophomore, “—and Shawn and Mitchy on the first set of four. Joey and Dennis will take the wings of the second, while Chad and I are on the touchline.” He glanced at Chad again, waiting for him to oppose being next to the gay guy, but he didn’t say anything. It was an important position anyway. That’s why Calum had put him there. “And Harry and Kevin will take the two. Yes?” They all nodded. Peter was smiling at Calum. “Lovely. Now, when we’ve been getting the ball, we’ve been pulling way too intricate forms. We’ve been trying stuff the pros can’t even get right sometimes and that’s why we’ve had so many issues. We’re gonna use the four-two-three-one for offense. We’re basically in the same spots, so it’s easy.” He pointed at 7 and 2 again, along with Shawn. “You’re on the four, and I want Joey there too. Joey and Shawn you’re taking full back.”

              “That’s…a hard spot,” Shawn said.

              “I know. And you’ll be fine.”

              Joey looked at Shawn and gave him a nod. The freshman took a deep breath and nodded at Calum.

              “Mitchy, you’ll move into midfield with Chad for the two. I’m taking the center of the three. We’re the lynchpin, guys. We’re feeding the attack outlets once we get that ball. You two are going to be back and forth all over the place. I mean,” he put a hand out, “you know the job.” They nodded. Mitchy looked ecstatic, and Chad seemed to be trying to hold back a look of appreciation. “I’m enganche, so I’ll be dropping into the pockets. Get the ball to me if you can, or take it to Joey and Shawn so they can skirt around. Harry, Dennis, you’re my wings. And Kevin, you’re obviously the one. I’m kicking it to you if you’re open, all right? Is all of that clear?” They nodded. “And Pete.” He flashed his friend a grin. “Don’t let them score.”

              “Half as much your job as mine, buddy.” He grinned back.

              Calum scanned the team for dramatic effect; he couldn’t help it—working with Luke showed him what it could do. “Here we go.”

              The second half began.

 

Luke watched as Northside’s number 8 and the biggest guy on Calum’s team stepped up to kickoff. The ref gave them the go and the latter launched the ball into Northside’s territory. And then Luke watched, awed.

              Immediately, everyone on Calum’s team switched position. Calum was waving his arm out, directing some of his teammates. They formed the 4-4-2, just like Calum had said. Northside’s possessor faltered, stutter stepping, watching his teammates move around trying to make up for the change in their opposing team. The kid started to move, unsure of himself. He attempted a pass to his teammate, but Joey (though Luke didn’t know who he was) intercepted, spinning around on his heels and kicking off to Calum. Calum, coveting the ball, dribbling absently, seemed to be looking around at his team. Luke was too, watching to see if the boys in blue would reform into the 4-2-3-1. But, just as Calum noticed at the exact same time, they didn’t need to. Northside had left a huge gap, leaving Calum space to dribble in or just kick off if he thought he could make the shot. He played it safe. Luke watched him dribble a few more yards, making it fairly close to the penalty line. Northside’s goalie was freaking out, flapping an arm around, probably wondering what in the world his team was doing. The goalie stepped off to the left a little, and Calum lace-kicked hard.

              It wasn’t beautiful—Luke saw that the ball was heading toward the upper corner of the net. A foot higher and the shot would have gone over. But it didn’t. Calum scored.

              Luke jumped up off his seat along with the other university fans around him. He cheered a little, watching Calum high five one of his teammates. He knew Northside would pick up on the changes, but they were flustered now and that was an advantage. The teams were setting again, and he sat back down to watch.

 

_Well I’ll fuckin’ be,_ Calum thought before he kicked the ball right into the goal. He heard his side of the stadium cheering. Yes. Oh, yes, it _worked._ He looked over at his coach. The heavyset guy was jumping, eyes wide. He pumped his fist in the air, and Calum couldn’t help but grin.

              Harry ran over and gave him a high five. Harry was a senior, and even though he had never seemed to care about Calum’s orientation, it was still a little victory to have one senior supporting him. Calum turned around to look for Chad. Chad was looking at him, but he looked away to get set for the next play when Calum met his eyes. But Mitchy was pointing at him. He thought that might be good. Two down?

              _Easy does it_ , Calum told himself. It would come.

              He readied for the next play.

              The ball went toward Dennis this time around. The sophomore picked it up and started to dribble, but one of Northside’s guys did some insane contortion with his feet and stole the ball. Calum saw that his team was back in the 4-4-2. Good; it was time for defense. Northside was flustered but they weren’t stupid.

              The one who had stolen the ball dribbled for a bit, then passed to his friend, over near Joey. Joey stole and kicked over to Chad, but it was intercepted by another Northside. It went back and forth for a long time, being sent out of bounds a few times—real football. Calum and the others were playing great defense, but Northside was good, and they seemed to be edging closer to the goal. Calum glanced over at Peter. Peter was set and ready, knees bent and hands relaxed in front of him. Calum barely had time to smile before he heard the kick and saw the ball go flying towards Peter. Peter took a huge step and leapt. He caught the ball, landed on one foot, almost fell, then steadied himself. And he threw back in.

              Mitchy had the ball quickly. He was dribbling and moving into his position in the two. He spun and juked a Northside, and passed with an outside kick to Chad.

              Chad started to dribble, then looked up and saw he didn’t have a clear path. The only person he saw that was open was Calum—in the pocket like he said he’d be. Chad considered pushing through anyway, but he didn’t want to ruin the play and give Northside another chance at scoring. He didn’t have to look over at Coach to know he was frowning at him, waiting for him to make the wrong decision. He huffed a breath and push-kicked to Calum.

              Calum received, and immediately dribbled sideways and passed to Harry. Harry moved a bit and passed cross-field to Dennis. Dennis ended up backtracking, but on purpose. He brought himself to a clear path and passed to Kevin who was waiting at the one like he was supposed to.

              Northside almost intercepted, but Kevin jumped forward, popped the ball in the air, bumped it with his chest, and dribbled forward once, twice, and shot. It went true and clear. The second goal was made.

 

Luke was up out of his seat again. The game was tied now. He reached down to get his bottle of water, then realized he’d drank it all without thinking. Whatever. _Look at him,_ he thought, watching Calum. Calum ran over to the brown-haired guy who Luke thought was his friend. They hugged each other quickly, and Luke had a second to wonder if they were more than just friends. He’d never even thought about it before. What if Calum had a boyfriend? Not that it would make a difference if he did…

              _What am I thinking?_ Luke thought. _Even if Calum didn’t have a boyfriend, what difference does it make for me? It’s not like I can do anything. I’m his teacher._

But he knew again that he wouldn’t even think of that if he was given the chance. He knew he’d break the rules if he could. He just wished he knew more about Calum in general. And that was something he _definitely_ couldn’t ask—if Calum had a boyfriend or not. That would raise way too much suspicion in Calum, and he’d probably run away for good. No, Luke would just have to wait and see.

              _Wait for what? You’re his_ teacher _._

_Shut up_.

              The next, and, he somehow felt, final play was about to commence. He sat back down.

 

Things slowed down for Calum then. He was seeing the motion of every player after the kickoff, on both teams. He moved lithely, watching every inch the ball moved through the air or across the grass or around a pair of cleats. The ball was being passed back and forth, jumping between teams. Calum found himself pivoting, as if the ball were orbiting around his center of gravity. Now Dennis had it. Now Chad. Northside. Now Mitchy and Shawn and Northside again. Then Peter was on the ground with the ball in his hands again and he stood up and threw back. Now Joey, now Mitchy, now Northside, now Harry, now Northside’s goalie because Harry had shot and been blocked. Now Kevin, now Northside, now Shawn. Now Calum.

              Everything sped up again. He received, dribbled, passed to Chad, ran, received back from Chad, spun around Northside, dribbled. Kicked. One last time.

              It wasn’t miraculous. He hadn’t used his head or done some Olympic backflip. But none of that was necessary. Northside’s goalie couldn’t get to the little black and white pentagons in time. And the clock was up. And that was the game.

 

They won.

              “We won,” Luke muttered under his breath. “Oh my…we won. He won.” This time when he jumped up, his feet lifted off the ground a little. Some guy next to him slapped him on the back. This was just a scrimmage but…well, it was football. Football fans were the best fans. And the university had just won.

              He was shouting, he was giggling, he was searching the mass of blue shirts for Calum but it was too hard to see anything. Oh well, in a minute he would go down by the benches and they would talk. Calum would be in such a good mood. He couldn’t wait to see Calum smile, his tongue peeking between his teeth. Maybe he would give Calum a hug. If it felt right. Screw it if Calum had a boyfriend.

              But fifteen minutes later, after the fans had filed away leaving cups and wrappers behind them, Luke couldn’t see Calum anywhere. Some of the team was still there, but Calum was nowhere to be found. Maybe he’d gone to get something or…maybe his coach had sent him to do something.

              Luke went down and stood underneath the stands so he wouldn’t be so obvious. He waited another bit of time. Calum never came back to the field. And the rest of the team left.

              Luke’s good mood dissipated rapidly. His mind had already jumped to all of the worst conclusions. Calum was still mad at him, or Calum didn’t care about him anymore because football had become too important. So Calum wouldn’t be coming back—maybe to class but not anywhere else. That was it.

              _This can’t be it._

_But that’s the thing. It can. It can end just like that._

_But…it didn’t, did it? I don’t know what I’ll do if it did. I love him._

_I know… I know._

Ashton. The bar. That’s what he needed right now.

              He looked at his watch. 5:54. Christ, he was going to be late. He took one more glance at the field. Of course, nobody was there. He went to his car.

 

Calum ran straight for Peter as he heard the fans cheering wildly.

              He embraced Peter in a gigantic hug. He heard Peter shouting at him, yelling that they’d done it, he’d done it. The rest of the team circled around them, jumping and bumping into one another. Shawn looked like he was about to explode with joy. _Right,_ Calum thought. _This was his first collegiate game. Incredible._ Mitchy had his tongue out and his fist in the air, and he punched Calum on the shoulder, telling him he’d done a good job. Chad was on the outer edges of the circle with 7. Calum, still clinging tight to Peter with one arm, turned to look at them. 7 was smiling—he was all right, then. Chad wasn’t exactly grinning ear-to-ear, but when Calum met his eyes again, he nodded, then looked away: _You’re okay, I guess._

Calum had been kind, polite, and generous. He’d given Chad the most important positions on the new forms, even though Chad had been the one to screw up the first half of the game with poor leadership. Calum had not only played football, but played this game as well. And he’d won.

              _Four down_ , Calum thought. And the rest would follow. Everything was going to be okay.

              After minutes more of flopping around in excitement and adrenaline, the boys dissipated and went back over to the benches. Calum and Peter passed by the coach.

              “What’d you think?” Calum asked him.

              The coach only shook his head. “I think you don’t have to worry about a single thing, Calum.”

              That was all Calum wanted to hear. He smiled, and nodded.

              He and Peter found two bottles of water, then went to the side, apart from the mob of others.

              “I can’t believe it,” Calum said.

              “I can,” Peter said. “That was amazing. Where did you come up with an idea like that? You’re freaking brilliant.”

              Calum looked behind Peter and up at the stadium seats. Maybe twenty fans were still there. And there was Luke. Well, he was Professor Hemmings up there; wouldn’t be Luke until Calum was talking to him again. He didn’t notice Calum looking at him.

              And for some reason, Calum was glad. He didn’t want Luke to see him looking at him. He didn’t want Luke to come down here and talk to him because—

              “It…it wasn’t me.”

              Peter raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Divine intervention?” He laughed, but Calum remained…not serious, but solemn. Dark. “What do you mean?”

              Calum shook his head. “It wasn’t really my idea. I can’t really explain it to you—it’s too long. But…fuck.” Calum found himself upset again, and he was angry because he’d been in such a good mood not two minutes ago. He knew he was being irrational, but he didn’t care. Luke shouldn’t have done that. This wasn’t his game. This wasn’t his life.

              Peter lowered his bottle from his lips, wiping his hair away from his forehead. “What? What is it?”

              Calum shook his head again. “I can’t explain it to you right now, okay? But it wasn’t me. I’m not brilliant. Someone else…couldn’t mind their own business.”

              Peter had absolutely no idea what Calum was talking about, but he could see the hurt on Calum’s face. This was Peter’s specialty—waiting. Waiting for the ball to fly in his direction, waiting until he knew Olivia loved him as much as he loved her and waiting for her parents to give him their blessing, waiting for his best friend to be comfortable. He would wait until Calum was ready to tell him, even if it took three weeks. He didn’t think it would be that long. Calum would probably be there to talk to him about it tomorrow, and if not, by practice next Tuesday.

              “Okay. I understand.” Calum gave him a thankful look. “Let’s see if we can bust out of here, yeah? Get a victory meal.”

              Calum nodded.

              They walked over to their coach. With the other boys doing their own thing, the coach finally gave them his full attention. “Peter. Nice saves out there. And Calum…I don’t know where you came up with that but it saved all our asses.” He clapped Calum on the shoulder. “Well done.”

              Peter glanced over at Calum, who was looking anywhere but here. “Thank you, sir. Do you need us for anything else?”

              “Well, there’s equipment and stuff to be picked up and…know what?” He shrugged. “You guys go on home. Or wherever. I’ll probably have some of the freshman stay back and clean up. You guys can head on out. Have a good weekend. Good—great job, again. But be back here Tuesday—two, on the dot.”

              “Of course,” Peter said. He wrapped his arm around Calum’s shoulders, and they started to walk out.

              As they were leaving the gate surrounding the field, Peter looked back over his shoulder at the stands. Two little boys and their mother, an older guy who he recognized as the Astronomy department chair…and another, younger man—young enough to be a grad student, he thought—wearing a crisp white button-up. Peter knew intuitively that this was who Calum had been looking at earlier. He didn’t know who he was, but he guessed that there was something between him and Calum. Again, he would wait until Calum was ready to let him know.

              They left the stadium, silent.

 

 

…

 

It was 6:12 when Luke arrived at the C&Y, the bar next to the bike shop. He saw Ashton’s car parked in the lot and found a space near to it, and went in.

              There were a lot of bars and clubs around the campus, but this one was Ashton and Luke’s favorite. Both the design and the atmosphere were brilliant and mellow. You walked in the door and found yourself immediately in a corridor with the bar itself on one side. You ordered your drink, waited, took it and paid, then went through the threshold at the other end of the hallway. In the next room you would find posters all over the walls— great musicians, long deceased, from every genre: David Bowie, Glen Frey, Freddie Mercury, John Lennon, Kurt Cobain, Janis Joplin, Tupac, Elvis Presley, Hank Williams, Whitney Houston, Bob Marley… The list went on, and they changed often. And you would hear music, differing every night as well. Some days there was live music up on the stage: Tuesdays were band night, Thursdays were solo night, and Saturdays were cover night. The other days of the week, the bar played its own tracks, a different genre every time, and you never knew what it was going to be. Monday might be classic rock and Friday might be blues and the next Monday might be EDM or Pop or Classical or whatever. You got what you got and everyone always enjoyed it. The lighting changed for the music, the tables were in different places every day, and the bar was regulated so that there were never more that forty people in it at once. If you got there too late and were Mr. Forty-One, tough luck. The C&Y was bizarre for its kind—a wonder.

              Luke opened the door. Unlocked—there was still space. Thank goodness.

              He ordered a Boulevardier. The girl at the counter mixed it while Luke looked around. He loved the deep blue neons that totally contrasted the classy wood-and-granite countertop of the bar. He saw a guy come out from the back and pull out a keyring. He locked the front door (patrons would exit from the other side of the building, dropping their glasses as they went).

              “Looks like you were the last one,” the bartender said, smiling. He paid and she handed him his drink. “Have a lovely night.”

              “You too,” he said, and went through the entryway.

              It seemed he’d caught the music just in time, right between two solo acts. Walking onstage now was a guy with wild fluorescent green hair and, Luke thought, beautiful pale skin. He sat down and pulled his guitar strap over his head.

              Luke looked around and found Ashton at a table near the side. The tables seemed to form a shape like a crosshairs tonight. Odd, but cool. Luke sat down next to Ashton.

              “Look at that guy, huh?” Luke said. “Crazy hair. Dude’s got huge eyes, too.”

              “I know,” Ashton said quietly. He was gazing over at the guy on the stage, who was now pulling the microphone down to his level. He wasn’t making eye contact with anyone, but he seemed to be naturally angled more towards Luke and Ashton’s side of the room. Nice—it would make for better sound.

              Luke looked at his friend. Ashton tapped his fingers against his glass absently. His other hand came up to adjust his hat, then went under his chin so he could rest his head there. He watched the performer, waiting intently.

              Luke smiled a bit. Ashton was out of it tonight. “What you got there, Ash? _Ash._ ”

              Ashton finally turned to look at him. “What, this?” he said, swirling his drink a little. “Just a Manhattan.”

              “Like always,” Luke said, and they both nodded. “You doing okay?”

              Ashton pulled a huge grin. “Of course! I’m great. Wonderful almost.”

              Luke laughed. “Good.”

              “You wanted to talk?” Ashton asked. Luke nodded.

              From the stage came a quiet, chesty voice. Ashton pulled his gaze back to the boy with the green hair, who was speaking into the mic: “This is for someone who’s been through what I was recently going through and…who helped me out of it.”

              Ashton tilted his head to the side a bit. Did he sigh? Or was Luke hearing things? And seeing things: the boy on stage appeared to glance up in their direction for a split second before looking down at his guitar.

              And he began to play, and sing.

 

              _Don’t talk, let me think it over…_

 

              “Oh. He has a nice voice,” Luke said, not expecting something so pure to come from someone who looked like that.

              “Yeah. I’ve always thought it was beautiful.”

              Luke squinted a little.

              Ashton blinked. “I’ve—I’ve seen him here before. He comes for solo night once in a while.”

              “Ah…” Luke nodded.

              “What was it you wanted to ask about?”

              Luke sighed and sipped his drink. “It’s not so much asking. Just…informing.”

              “All right. What?”

              “I…” Luke watched the performer for a second. “I think I might...Ash you’re gonna kill me.”

              Ashton put down his glass and pushed it away an inch or two. “I don’t know whether to laugh and say ‘no of course not’ or get serious.”

              “Maybe laugh and tell me it’s okay?”

              Ashton smiled. “The moment’s passed, Luke.”

              Luke shook his head. “I think I love one of my students.”

 

              _Even though my dizzy head is numb, I swear my heart is never giving up…_

 

              “Oh. Shit.”

              “I know.”

              “Who? The one you’ve told me about? Calum Hood?”

              Luke nodded, chewing his lip where the ring used to be.

              “Love or _in_ love?”

 

              _You’re the reason, the only reason…_

              Luke looked at his hands and picked his nails. “I…I don’t know.” He put his hands in his hair, mussing up the style. “I think just love.” He laughed then, humorlessly. “ _Just_ love. What does that even mean? But…no. Not _in_ love. Not yet.”

 

              _I feel you, burning under my skin…_

              “That’s probably good. I suppose. Are you happy?”

              Luke tilted his head, staring at the lights on the wall. “He’s mad at me.”

              Ashton would wait all night if he needed to, listening, for Luke to get it all out. “Why?”

 

              _Bitter words spoken…_

“He’s been coming to see me in my office. We’ve been talking, like I’ve told you. And he’s gotten really good at this, like I’ve told you. And I see some real potential in him. And listening to him speak is like… But I gave them this assignment. Just a general one, to give me both sides of an argument, whatever topic they wanted. He said he was going to do video games. FIFA. Isn’t that cool?” Ashton blinked at him. “I know, I know. You don’t like FIFA. Anyway, his idea was really good. But he got this call from his friend and…well something happened with football—did I tell you he’s on the team?” Ashton nodded. “Right. Well they found out—um…something happened and he was in danger of getting kicked off and so he was just in an understandably bad mood and his assignment was terrible because his mind was on other things so I just called him up to the front after class to talk about it and I just got all mixed up, Ashton, I didn’t say anything good and I think I called him stupid but I didn’t mean to and now everything is really messed up and at the game today he—”

              “Hey, Luke?”

 

              _I fall apart; I find it hard to breathe…_

 

              Ashton had put his hands over Luke’s on the table. Luke had been clenching his fingers together, white-knuckled. Ashton gave his hands a squeeze and he relaxed a little.

              “Sorry.”

              “No, don’t apologize,” Ashton said. “Deep breath.”

              Luke took one, and let it out.

              “Good. Do you have more to say or should I comment?”

              “I have more but I want to hear what you have to say.”

              “I think…that’s over now. I think he’ll understand. I think he was in his mood and you were maybe a little disappointed but I think it’s over now. They won today, yes?” Luke nodded. “And he did well?” He nodded again. “Then it’s done.”

              “You think?”

              Ashton sipped his drink, almost empty. “Yeah. I think.”

              “But then at the game today…”

              “Did he _say_ he was mad at you?”

              “No. I actually thought we sort of made up. I kind of helped him a little.”

              “With football?”

              “Well, I kind of helped him see something that was happening.”

              Ashton turned his head, looking sideways at Luke. “Did you point out something that he did wrong?”

              “No. Just something he missed. That the other team was doing.”

              Ashton shook his head a bit and finished off his Manhattan. “Careful, Luke. Men have high, unsteady pride.”

              Luke showed his teeth, realizing his mistake. “Oh, God. You’re right. He’s probably thinking that I was thinking he was stupid for not figuring it out himself and I had to tell him or else he would… _ugh_. But he had so much to concentrate on already and I _don’t_ think he’s stupid. It was just an honest mistake that he didn’t see it.” He threw his hands up in the air. “No! It wasn’t a mistake at all! He just needed more eyes. If it’s anyone’s fault it’s his teammates or his coach. Really. His coach…” He trailed off for a moment. Ashton watched his face change. “He seemed so happy though. He was jumping around and was excited that we’d come up with this solution… But then he ran off. Didn’t say goodbye and I didn’t see him after the game ended. Jesus. I can’t think when he’s there. I can barely talk when he’s there. I can’t say anything right.”

              “And you of all people. Master debater, you are.”

              “That’s _you_ , Ash.” He smiled. “But yeah. I don’t know what it is but it fucks with my brain.”

              “I know what it is.”

              Luke raised an eyebrow at him.

              Ashton nodded. “Two things, in combination with each other. It’s him,” he said, and chewed a piece of ice. “His mind and his ideas and the way he looks, I’m sure, though I’ve never met him. It’s pretty much always a contributing factor.” Luke nodded as Ashton looked back at the performer for a moment. Sure, the way Calum looked was definitely a part of it. Ashton turned back to him. “And it’s this.” He pointed out a finger and poked it at Luke’s chest. “In here.” And he put his hand to his own chest, demonstrating.

 

              _You’re the reason, the only reason._

 

              The boy with the green hair played out his final chord, letting it ring until he silenced it with a screech of skin on guitar string. “Thank you.”

              Ashton was facing him once again, hand still over his heart. The other patrons clapped, and the murmur started up again as the performer stood with his guitar, looked over in their direction again, then scanned the room briefly and walked backstage.

              “I almost wish it wasn’t,” Luke said, putting his palm over his chest. He dropped his hand to the table.

              “No you don’t,” Ashton said. “So, answer my question. Are you happy?”

              Luke thought for a moment. “Am I happy that he’s upset with me? No. Am I happy that he’s in my life? Of course. Am I happy that I feel this way?” He shrugged.

              “You will be.”

              Luke looked up at him, confused. “I will?”

              “I think so. But I think you need to talk to him again, get this straightened out. Like I said, he’s probably over it. But watch your mouth, yeah?”

              Luke half-smiled. “Yeah, I know. I just need _this_ —” he motioned to his chest, “—to calm down for once.”

              Ashton nodded again, looking up towards the stage area. “Finish your drink. I’ll be right back. I’m…going to the bathroom.”

              “All right.”

              Ashton stood and went vaguely in the direction of the bathrooms. Luke looked down at his fingers again, missing the left Ashton made, taking him away from the restrooms and back behind the stage.

              Luke made himself stop picking at his nails. He was nervous about everything. He kept thinking that Calum wouldn’t talk to him again, that earlier today was just a fluke because Calum was in a brief good mood at the game. He hadn’t said goodbye, after all. Luke sighed. He would definitely have to talk to Calum again, even if he had to sprint up the lecture hall and catch him on his way out. Should he tell Calum how he felt? And did _he_ even know how he felt? He was pretty sure he was right when he said it was just love, but…

              He’d have to wait and see. Wait and see how much hurt the next four days brought him before he saw Calum again. He’d need a lot of Boulevardiers.

              He had a moment to think how nice Ashton was being about all of this. Sure, he was initially a little surprised when Luke had told him the news, but otherwise he seemed pretty unfazed. And he seemed so sure about what he was saying when he told Luke he would be happy eventually. Wow. Luke had really struck gold with Ashton. He thanked God that their professor paired them for a debate freshman year, even though Ashton had beaten him into the dirt. They’d connected instantly, Ashton’s charisma balancing Luke’s awkward shyness. And Ashton had taught him, much like he was now teaching Calum. And from there it went. Ashton knew everything about Luke, and Luke knew everything about Ashton. He thought.

              Actually…Luke felt like there was something he was missing. Something Ashton might not be telling him…but he didn’t know what. And it didn’t feel like a bad thing. It was probably nothing. He let it go.

              Ashton came back to the table, adjusting his hat as he walked.

              “Let’s get out of here, Hemmings. We’ve had our fancy drinks. Wanna come back home and order a pizza or something? And I have beer. We’ll talk.”

              Luke realized he hadn’t eaten. With all the chemicals running through him, he hadn’t been hungry. But now that Ashton mentioned it…

              “Absolutely.”


	8. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NOT the actual end of the story I promise, just the title of this chapter

Most of Luke’s weekend was spent on couches: office couch, Ashton’s couch, and his own couch. If he felt like going into campus to work, he’d bus to his office, not bothering with his car, and work for maybe two hours, sitting where Calum always sat. Or used to sit. He didn’t know which yet.

              Tired of that, he would either go home, or call Ashton and see if he could go over to his place. Ash would usually say yes, although once on Sunday, Ashton said he would be busy all morning with a conference with the Speech department of the university. Which didn’t make any sense, because the university almost never held conferences Sunday morning—people went to church. And unless Ashton had decided he wanted to teach Speech instead of or alongside but separate from his Debate courses, Luke would have been asked to come to the conference as well, as the Speech and Debate departments were essentially the same, just with two different chairs. But either way Luke didn’t mind. He actually felt like he was getting in Ashton’s way a little. It was just nice to have someone to talk to who seemed to understand so well. _So_ well. Ashton had every piece of advice to possibly give. It was like he’d been there or something.

              So Sunday morning, and those few other times when Ashton wasn’t home, like Monday when he taught an Intro to Reasoning course for freshmen, Luke would curl up or lay back on his own couch. Sometimes he’d play guitar, sometimes he’d turn up his stereo with his phone plugged in and play along. Once he danced, jumping around and singing like he was at a concert. But usually he would just sit there, some drink in his hand, not enough to get him wasted but enough to block out the thoughts and the deep blue and black feelings.

              He had a paper to work on—he was a graduate student, after all. But he didn’t do it. The topic reminded him too much of…

              The boy he wasn’t sure whether he loved or was in love with. The boy who wasn’t a boy, but a mind and a body and a soul and a _voice_ , falling in line, step by academic step, with his own. Falling in line. Falling in—

              Luke jerked his body forward, spilling some of the coffee he was drinking to help with his headache. Today was Tuesday. It was 9:30. Class started at 10:05. Oh shit.

              He was up, showered, dressed, and heading out the door in twenty minutes. Fifteen minutes was not going to be enough to bus over. His keys jingled as he hit the unlock button for his car, shoved his stuff through to the passenger seat, and started driving.

 

…

 

Calum tried to shut out the sound of some kid tapping his pencil on the table in the lecture hall. Everyone was there. Except for Luke. Class started in…forty seconds. Luke was never late.

              Calum hoped that maybe a sub had been called in or that Luke just wouldn’t show up and they could leave. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be in class. He just didn’t want to deal with Luke right now. He didn’t want to deal with all the different ways he felt when he was around or talking to Luke.

              He felt angry at some of what Luke had said. He felt bad for feeling so angry. He felt some weird magnetism that made it so he couldn’t concentrate when Luke was there unless he made himself believe that Luke was speaking only to him, which is why he seemed to do well in the office. He felt like he wanted to go back to the office. But he was angry. But he was proud when he was with Luke. But he was sad. But he was confused when he was with Luke. But he was sorry. But he was scared because there was another feeling coming through that he couldn’t identify yet. But he wanted to get over all of that. And he didn’t know if seeing Luke would help with that or make it harder.

              Taptaptaptap.

              Four…three…two…one. Class time.

              Calum glanced over at the door, expecting Luke to make some grand entrance where he greeted the class in his you-can-hear-me-all-the-way-in-the-back teacher’s voice. He would stroll in and he would look up at Calum and all the feelings Calum had would burn away and he would be okay again because the look in Luke’s eyes would be one of forgiveness and it would make Calum feel the same way towards him.

              Of course, that didn’t happen. Luke was late. It was another three minutes and two lost students before he finally came through the door.

              Calum saw Luke look up at him, right away, but he lowered his eyes. Yep. The feelings were definitely still there. Now he just had to decide if he wanted to try and talk to Luke face to face. And try to figure out what that heavy burn in his stomach was when Luke had basically been looking for him as he walked through the doorway.

              “Sorry, everyone. Let’s get right to it.” He started talking as he put down his things. “In debate, winning doesn’t mean defeating your opponent. Winning means taking those people who are unsure, who have mixed feelings about the topic and about what you’re trying to say, and convincing them that your way is the best way. Convince them to choose you…”

 

Calum automatically gravitated towards the front of the room when class ended. It didn’t matter what his brain wanted. This was where his body was going to take him apparently.

              Luke saw Calum get up from his seat and head in his direction. He put his hand up to his mouth to stop whatever sound wanted to come out and turned around to erase the board so he wouldn’t seem so up front and in Calum’s face.

              Calum watched as Luke turned around when he noticed he was coming to see him. He wouldn’t even look at him. Was he making a mistake? Well…it was too late now.

              Luke put the eraser down, feeling the tingle on his back as Calum came closer. He put his hands together, tapping the pads of his fingers against one another, and turned around. Calum was there. Just standing. Looking at him. Not saying anything.

              Calum watched Luke turn around, but then Luke didn’t even say anything. He just stood there, looking at him. Should he start? Or should Luke? He felt like it should be Luke.

              Luke took a deep breath and said, “Hi.”

              “Hi, Luke.” He hadn’t meant to say his name. Dammit. He was supposed to be upset.

              Luke blinked. It was like they had started over completely. “Question?” he asked.

              Calum shook his head. “Do you have office hours today?” What the _hell_. This was not going as planned. It was Luke’s eyes. That was the problem.

              Luke’s face lit up. “Yes. I always do. Are you coming by?” He leaned forward a bit, overeager. He cleared his throat and straightened out. This wasn’t what he expected from Calum. He thought Calum was going to tell him off or something. Maybe Ashton was right. Maybe it was over now.

              “I think so.” Calum crossed his arms.

              So no, Luke thought, it wasn’t over. He could tell by Calum’s body language. He was standing with his legs completely straight, feet slightly apart, tall. Alpha. And now he’d crossed his arms. His eyes said it was over but his body said he was still upset. _That’s okay_. _Maybe it’ll get better in the office later._

              “Okay. I’m glad to hear it. Really.”

              The words drilled into Calum’s brain. Glad? Really glad? Oh…even after how much of a jerk Calum knew he had been, Luke still wanted to see him one-on-one. He squeezed just above his elbows, not knowing what to do. For some reason, the feeling of anger would not leave from under his skin. But it was fading. Luke and his ocean eyes were putting the fire out.

              He nodded once, perfunctory. “I have an idea for a topic we can—”

              Luke’s phone was ringing.

              _Seriously?_ they both thought. Why did this keep happening?

              Luke turned to his desk where his phone was travelling with the vibration. Ashton. His picture showed up on the screen, him in his black hat, smiling with his chin up, dimples showing, hair in his eyes, fingers up in a rock-on sign. Luke practically jumped to cover it up. What would Calum think?

              “Um…” he pointed to the phone in his hand.

              Calum had his eyebrows up, unamused, but he flicked his hand at Luke to say _Whatever._

              Luke sighed, putting the phone to his ear and turning his body a little bit. “Hey. Not a good time.”

              “Sorry. Just wanted to let you know there’s going to be a conference in Madden Hall in half an hour. I meant to tell you before.”

              “What? They didn’t send out an email.”

              “I know. They, uh…told us on Sunday morning, and we were supposed to get the message out. Sorry, Luke. My bad. You don’t have anything, do you?”

              “Only office hours.”

              Ashton didn’t say anything for a moment. Then: “Oh, fuck. Now I’m really _really_ sorry.”

              Luke sighed again. “It’s fine. The conference is—wait. What’s it about?” He glanced over at Calum: arms crossed, lips in a line, eyes elsewhere. Oh boy.

              “We’re basically planning out Feldmann. Logistics and everything.”

              Oh _right_. Feldmann. He still hadn’t brought it up with Calum. Maybe today wasn’t the best time. Unless things were back to normal after they met. Later. Because of the conference.

              “Oh yeah. Okay. Thanks for telling me. I’ll be there soon.”

              “Sorry, Luke. Hope it works out.”

              “Me too.”

              “See ya.”

              “Bye.”

              He hung up the phone and put it back, face down, on his desk. “Sorry about that. Listen…it turns out I’ve got a meeting across campus in a half hour.”

              Calum’s tongue grazed his teeth. “Right.”

              “I’m sorry. It’s important.” Shit. Wait. “But also so is talking to you so…can we reschedule?”

              Calum rubbed his forehead. “I’ve got football practice until four or five.”

              “Is five-thirty okay?”

              Calum shrugged. “Maybe six.”

              Luke nodded, clenching his jaw. “Okay. That’s just fine. I’ll see you then. Again, I’m sorry. It was a pretty sudden decision.”

              “It’s fine.”

              But it sort of wasn’t. Calum was itching to talk to Luke, even if he didn’t know why. Maybe he wanted to apologize or maybe he just wanted to feel how he did when he spoke in front of Luke because he always felt a million miles high then. And the way Luke would look at him while he talked… Or maybe he wanted to get mad. Maybe he wanted to tell Luke how he’d made him feel last week. Maybe he wanted some catharsis.

              Catharsis. What they’d talked about the first time Calum had visited Luke. Just two weeks ago. It felt like years.

              Luke was just looking him, probably seeing all of his thoughts and feelings on his face. He always was good at seeing into Calum’s head. “It’s fine,” Calum said again.

              “All right. See you then?”

              Calum nodded.

 

…

 

And Calum went to practice early.

              About half the team was there already. Shawn immediately came up to him and told him how awesome he was last Thursday. Calum thanked the kid, thinking he was a cool guy who was going to be just as good at football as he was in a year or two. And he found Peter.

              “Hey man, can I talk to you for a second?”

              Peter looked right at him. Yep. He was right—here Calum was. The weekend had been enough to think on whatever the problem had been. Peter was happy to help. “Of course.”

              They moved off to the edge of the field, getting out of the coach’s line of sight so he wouldn’t rag on them for being lazy.

              “So what happened on Thursday?” Peter started.

              “That’s the thing…” Calum said. “I have this…thing.”

              “Is it a _thing_ I can help with?”

              “I don’t know.” He paused for a second, crossing his arms and looking around. “Did _you_ ask Olivia out? When you first met?”

              Oh. So this was what Calum wanted to talk about. Peter held back a smile—he was really happy that Calum had feelings for someone but he didn’t want to grin in the midst of Calum’s confusion.

              “I did.”

              “Because you knew she liked you?”

              Peter tilted his head from side to side. “I thought I was kind of getting that vibe from her, yeah. I mean, I wasn’t completely sure but…just went for it, you know? Glad I did.”

              Calum nodded. Didn’t say anything.

              “What got you so upset?” Peter asked.

              “L—my— _ugh._ ” He shook his head, putting a hand to his forehead. “Someone just made me feel a little bad about myself, that’s all. I might have overreacted a bit.”

              “Whatever they said to you, it helped turn that game right around, didn’t it.” Not a question.

              Yeah. It did. Without Luke, Calum may not have been able to fix the game, and they probably would have lost. “Yes.”

              Peter wondered if he could ask who it was. He knew now that it was the guy from the stands, since that was the only person Calum had talked to outside the team that day, and Calum had basically just confirmed the interaction. The guy had seemed a little older; probably a senior. Maybe even a graduate student. Peter wondered why Calum hadn’t mentioned him yet.

              “Is there someone specific?” he asked tactfully.

              Calum looked away. “I—yes.” He nodded, birdlike. “But it’s sort of…”

              Grad student then. Calum might feel weird if the person he liked was four or five years older than him. A sudden thought hit Peter: how nicely the guy was dressed, his age, his manner…what if he was a teacher here? Oh no. That would be bad. That was very against the rules. That would be hard to maneuver. Not that Peter was judging. But he was dying to know, but he couldn’t just say it.

              “How’s that going?” He put his hand on his hip.

              “I don’t know. I’m not really sure how I feel about…this thing.”

              “Is this person the one you talked to over there, Thursday?” He pointed right at the spot where Luke had been standing.

              Calum looked up at Peter. Of course Peter knew. He didn’t _know_ , but he knew. “Yes. I don’t know…What if I feel something that maybe I shouldn’t feel but I really want to feel?”

              Well, if the guy was a teacher then that would make a lot of sense. Peter knew what Calum meant. But if Calum didn’t want to say the word then he wouldn’t either. “I think you should do what makes you happy.”

              “That’s kind of hard to figure out.”

              “It’s not. It like flipping a coin. You throw it and while it’s still in the air you realize what you want the outcome to be. Flip your coin. Go talk to him.”

_Did_ Peter know? He couldn’t know exactly who…could he? Calum had never even mentioned Luke, never even said that he’d been seeing his teacher after every class. But still, the scrimmage. Peter had seen them talking. But that didn’t necessarily mean…was Calum really that bad at hiding his feelings? He could imagine himself staring up at Luke in the stands, some unconsciously wistful or whatever look on his face, and Peter watching him, knowing. Peter didn’t know that was _Luke,_ though. Or Professor Hemmings, as Peter would recognize by name. He wondered what Peter would think if he knew Calum was having a zillion different feelings for his teacher. Even though half of them were bad feelings, or feelings of wanting to be away, Calum knew that he still shouldn’t really be having _any_ feelings. Because Luke was his teacher, and students weren’t supposed to feel things towards their teachers. Especially not the other half.

              But anyway, Peter was sort of right.

              “You sure?” he said.

              “Even if I’m not right, or even if it doesn’t work out, you should still take your chance.” Calum didn’t look so sure. Peter smiled and hit his shoulder. “Seize the day, man. You’ll never be as young as you are now. What if you don’t and then you regret it for a long time? I can’t imagine where I’d be if I hadn’t taken the chance with Liv.” Peter put his hands out in a giving gesture. “Do what you want and what makes you happy. And if I’m being honest…I think it’s going to work out just fine.”

              Oh man. Peter _had_ to know something. He seemed to be sure of what he was saying. Peter was good at reading people—he’d certainly read Calum well enough on this matter. Had he read Luke too? Because he’d clearly seen them talking. Calum wondered if Peter had seen that smile on Luke’s face near the end. The barely-there smile that had made Calum want to drop everything and hug him and tell him sorry.

              Calum wondered if Peter saw some of the same things he was feeling, but in Luke. Calum wondered if Peter could tell how Luke felt about him, just by seeing him there, leaning over the railing, shoulders hunched and smiling down at his student. Calum wondered if Peter could tell him what those feelings were.

              “Okay. I’ll talk to him later today. Peter, do you think—”

              “Get back on the field, gentlemen. It’s been long enough.”

              _Dammit, Coach,_ they both thought. “Okay!” Peter shouted over. He looked back at Calum. “Listen. If you ever want to talk about this in…more detail, then just call me or come over, okay?”

             Calum nodded. They started to jog out. “Thanks.”

              “And hey.” They stopped again. “Is there anyone else you know that might help you with this? Someone that can, I don’t know, tell you more about him? Friends on the other side sort of thing.”

              Jesus Christ. Calum hadn’t even thought of that. Was there?

              Well, there was that one guy, the other teacher. The one from the profile picture and the phone screen and the Union Center road with that blue-haired guy. Calum was pretty sure he and Luke were pretty close. He’d need to do a little research. Figure out who he was and what was going on and where to find him. But first—

              “Field!” the coach yelled.

              “All right, all right, jeez,” Peter said under his breath.

              “I think so,” Calum told him.

              Peter nodded. They went to practice.

 

…

 

Luke was back in his office by 5:50. He’d gone to the conference with Ashton, and then they’d gotten an early meal. Luke had been wondering if Calum would get the chance to have dinner considering the time they’d set up. And then he wished that he hadn’t eaten so that he could invite—

              No no no. That wouldn’t be okay. Just because Luke sort of knew how he felt and Ashton had said things were going to be okay no matter what didn’t mean that Luke should start jumping to conclusions and falling all over the boy.

              He didn’t like thinking of Calum as a boy. He didn’t like thinking of Calum as a man, either—too formal. Half the time he didn’t even think of himself as a man. He didn’t like thinking of Calum as a student. He knew what he wanted to think of Calum as but he didn’t want to admit it to himself. Because maybe he didn’t feel that way yet. Maybe Calum was a friend? He wasn’t sure. Time might tell.

              6:00. He’d changed his mind. He wasn’t coming. He was still mad at him and he actually didn’t want to talk to him. Luke stood and started walking around the room.

              6:02. Definitely not coming. Never ever coming. Didn’t care anymore. Luke had made too many mistakes.

              6:05. Why? Why wasn’t he—

              There came a knock from the door. Luke ran over and opened it. There he was. Thank everything that ever existed; there he was.

              Calum glanced up at Luke and then looked at his feet, turned slightly inward. He was holding his backpack strap with one hand and the other was twisting the end of his shirt, another muscle tee that said SUBLIME LONG BEACH. “Sorry I’m late,” he said.

              Luke noticed the change in Calum’s body language. He’d withdrawn a bit, but not in a particularly bad way. He’d come down off a pedestal. He was back with Luke again. But now he was shy, and he wasn’t looking Luke directly in the eyes, as if there was something there he didn’t want to see or couldn’t handle. And he seemed…confused? Anxious? Maybe he was just…tired.

              “No, it’s fine. I was just sitting here waiting.” _You liar._ Calum ran his fingers through his hair. “I like your shirt. Again,” Luke said. “You have the best band shirts.” Compliment. Good. Thank God it had come out normally.

              Calum looked at him for a second and blushed. He touched his shirt. “Oh…thank you. It’s one of my favorites.”

              “Great band; beautiful word. Do you know what that means? Sublimation?”

              “I know ‘sublime.’ Absolutely perfect or high up or revered. Something like that, right?”

              “Yes. But sublim _ation_?” Calum shook his head. “It’s when a substance goes directly from a solid form to a gaseous form. It’s what gives comets their tails, for example. Comets are mainly ice—water ice and carbon dioxide ice, methane, ammonia, the like—and the ice sublimates and you get your plasma—ionized gas—and dust tails.”

              Calum blinked at him. “Oh. That’s actually—that fits with my topic for today. Sort of—if you want to do it.”

              “Of course.”

              Calum just stood there. He put his hand in his pocket. “Can I come in?”

              Fuck they were still in the doorway. “Y-yes. Oh my…yes.” He stepped backward, holding the door. Calum didn’t look at him as he went through. Luke shut the door, almost locked it unconsciously, then pulled his hand away as if the handle were hot. _Careful_. _Calm yourself_.

              Calum patted his hands awkwardly on his legs, then just sat down in the same spot he always did. It felt…nice.

              “What was your idea, then?” Luke asked, coming to sit in front of him.

              “Um…I thought we could talk about outer space.”

              “In general? Dark matter? Origins? Retrograde motion? Formation of planetary systems? Formation of nebulae into stars?” _Shut up already_.

              “Uh, I don’t know really. I just thought it might be cool. You choose.” He put his hand out, motioning to Luke, but something was there in the air and he pulled his hand back into his lap. There was something between them. Some sort of wall.

              “You’re fairly familiar then?” Luke asked.

              Calum nodded. “I had a class last semester. And I always thought it was cool. I’ve read some stuff.”

              Calum had read some astronomy stuff. For fun. Luke realized two things: that he really didn’t know very much about Calum at all, and that he now admired Calum that much more.

              “I guess you know about it, too?” Calum said.

              Luke nodded. “A bit.” He thought for a second. “What if…what if we talked about the end?”

              “The end of space?”

              “The end of time. I suppose they’re sort of the same thing, aren’t they?”

              Calum kept a straight face but inside he was smiling. He was still feeling really weird, all over the place, but that part of him that seemed to only show up when he was with Luke was coming back again. Luke was bringing it back. But it wasn’t time to start picking sides yet. He was still gauging things; trying to figure out what he really felt. Really wanted.

              “I suppose so. End of the universe, huh?” He stuck out his lower lip, nodding in approval. Luke put his fingers together and squeezed. “I like it.”

              “Red and blue?” Luke asked.

              Calum knew exactly what he meant. “Yes. Absolutely.”

              “Which do you want?”

              Calum shrugged. “You pick.”

              Here was where Luke played his own game, sort of. He got strategic with things. Now he wasn’t going to choose what he wanted to talk about, but what he wanted to hear Calum talk about. What he thought Calum would be most excited about or know the most about or be the most emotional about. What he cared about. Luke thought he knew which one Calum would do better.

              “I’ll be blue,” he said. “Fire.”

              “Then I’m red—ice.” Calum smiled, realized he’d done it, and looked at his hands, bringing his mouth back into a straight line. “I’ve always thought it sounded so weird when said like that.”

              Luke didn’t know what was going through Calum’s head. Calum was definitely holding something back. Luke didn’t think it was the remnants of his anger—not when Calum smiled like that and lowered his head like that. Calum was being so _shy_. Luke tried not to think about what that could mean about Calum’s feelings.

              “It does,” he said. “Would you like to start?”

              Calum shook his head. “Don’t think I’m ready yet. I need to work off your ideas still.”

              Luke tilted his head back a little. “Well, I don’t think that. But I’ll still go first if it makes you comfortable.”

              There wasn’t much that could make Calum comfortable just now. But not going first and not looking like an idiot would be a step in the right direction. He nodded.

              “Okay,” Luke said. “Is it fine if I stand again?”

              “You make the rules,” Calum said.

              _God. I wish I did. I really wish I did._ _Then none of this would be a problem and what I’m feeling would be allowed and we could—_

              “First thing, though.” He cleared his throat. “Because of the nature of this course you’re in, when we start doing practices in class, your prompts aren’t going to sound like ones you may have heard before. Not just because the topics can be anything, but simply because—” he drew his hands out to the sides, “—it’s so broad. We try to include a wide range of subject matters. You know that already.” Calum was looking up at him. “So I’m going to try and give us a prompt that might be used in this case…” Calum nodded. “Um…” He huffed out a small breath. Now he was the one that didn’t want to look like an idiot—didn’t want to sound like some didactic snob or some wannabe genius. He didn’t want to sound like he was trying to confuse Calum. “It has yet to be determined, due to the small ratio of time we’ve had the ability to observe the universe and the time that has ever existed, the nature of the _end_ of time. Using principles of astronomy and celestial and planetary motion, argue how our world might come to and end.” He gave Calum a look that said, _Okay? Is that good?_

              Calum’s face had softened a little. He looked a little less uncomfortable. At least there was that. He nodded, seeming to understand perfectly everything Luke had mentioned. He waved his hand once: _Go on. Speak_.

              “Okay.” Luke put his palms together.

              Calum watched as Luke fell back under the red curtain. It was one side of Luke that always fascinated him—the calm, straight-edged manner, the almost militaristic stance that he adopted before he started speaking and moving across the floor like the FBI Director addressing the nation. His eyes would practically change color as his thoughts and ideas ran rivers behind them. If this was Luke in the office, Calum wondered what Luke would be like

             ( _back at his place_ )

              on stage

              ( _where it would be safer for us_ )

              at the podium

              ( _and we could be really alone_ )

              in a real debate.

              He waited as Luke thought for a moment. He felt himself sinking into his seat, settling like this was the only place he should be, when Luke started to speak.

              “Astronomers know today that different directions of motion cause the objects in space to appear to emit different forms of light over their course, depending on which way they’re going. Objects moving away from us appear red over distance, while objects moving towards us appear blue. Should we look into space and determine that celestial objects are moving closer to us, it could be determined that the universe is in fact condensing.”

              Calum had Luke on that one. Luke’s logic was sound, but his rhetoric was off: _should_ and _could._ It was something Luke had talked about the last time they were here—make your argument sound like it already is fact. And Luke was not doing that. Probably because he knew that Calum’s side was scientifically the more likely option in this case.

              So then why had he chosen it? Calum wondered. Expansion of the universe was generally thought of as more probable than collapse…so why had he picked that side?

              _Because he wanted_ me _to have the good one. He wants to hear me speak well. He wants to hear my argument._ He breathed in, held it for a few seconds, then let it out. Luke continued on.

              “With a blue shift of objects in outer space, our world will end in fire. Our universe in its entirety will collapse back—” Luke clapped, making Calum jump, “—into singularity. The beginning of all time.” He paused for a moment, the effect Calum knew he loved to use. “And we start over. The _universe_ starts over.”

              Calum raised his hand as if he were in class.

              Luke stopped. “Yes?”

              “So…well, I’m less familiar with this half of the argument so…I thought this had to do with the sun? That its gravity would pull the planets into it?”

              Luke stepped out of his mode, back from underneath the curtain. He shook his head. “That’s not the theory. It’s not that earth and the rest of the solar system will get sucked into the sun. And it’s not that the sun will blow up tomorrow, or massively flare like some people seem to think. Although…”

              He looked up into the corner of the ceiling. To Calum, he looked at once far away, as if his mind had formed a body and traveled to sit directly in front of the sun, deep in space, for observation. “I suppose that’s possible,” he said, quieter. He blinked and his mind came back. “But no.”

              “Then what—”

              Luke put a finger up, silencing him. Calum raised his eyebrows a bit. Luke put his hands out— _Sorry. Just give me a second._ He went to the whiteboard on his wall, picked up a marker, and began drawing. Once circle, another one twice the size, a squiggly amoeba-shaped thing, then dots everywhere.

              Calum watched his arms reach around the board, moving efficiently, lithe. His shirt was coming untucked again, and Calum saw the hem come peeking out of his pants at his right hip, exposing just a tiny bit of skin. He didn’t think Luke needed to know.

              Luke finished drawing, then turned halfway so he could address Calum but still point to the board. “If we’re talking about what _you’re_ talking about, disregarding the universe, then the theory is that the sun,” he pointed at the first circle, “going through its next stage of life—the red giant stage, I think it’s called; this one—” he pointed to the second circle, “will grow to engulf the nearest planets, including Earth. Eventually it’ll blow up, supernova.” He pointed to the amoeba. “Actually, I think it’s not big enough to supernova but it will dissipate eventually…”

              He trailed off and looked at Calum, who was just sitting there, looking almost blankly at him. But no, his eyes were full. He was just maintaining a straight face. Luke wanted to shout at him to tell him to just get out whatever it was he needed to get out. Yell at Luke if he wanted to, if he was mad. Luke wanted some sort of emotion. But not yet, apparently.

              “It won’t condense to a white dwarf—again, not big enough.”

              Calum was still just looking. Luke knew he was just trying to keep up his façade of irritation or apathy or whatever. But he also thought that Calum was actually interested in what he was saying. Still, it was awkward talking to a brick, so he got to the point.

              “So then it’s dead. Stardust.” He made one last dot amongst all the others, then closed the marker. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, interesting topic for me. I would have been an astronomer if I thought I could make any money.” He went to erase the board but stutter-stepped, put his hands out, palms up, turned back and said, “Ah, but then what am I doing here?”

              Calum couldn’t help it. He smiled, just a little. He didn’t know when he’d raised his hand that Luke would have so much to say. He really liked listening to Luke talk. It made his insides loop around. And that was why he was trying so hard not to let anything show. He still didn’t know if any of this was okay yet. If he was okay with it.

              Luke turned back to the board and let himself sigh and smile in relief. At least there was that little twitch of the lips that Calum had let slip through. At least.

              “But anyway. So, if we’re only considering our solar system, then this is what happens.” He tapped at the board. “But if we’re including all things, then our universe will continue to shrink, pulling all galaxies nebulae stars planets everything, back to its apparent center. The earth will end in fire because of our proximity with the sun, yes. But not _because_ of the sun. The sun just happens to be in our way. Unless this happens first,” he said, referring to the board. “Which, in all likelihood, it will. Then we die in fire before the universe even catches up to us. Cool, right?” He was sort of being sarcastic, but also not.

              “Actually, yes,” Calum said. “I didn’t consider the fact of the universe ending being completely separate from the world ending, or our world—earth.”

              Calum thought it was cool. That made Luke feel good. He nodded. “Something to include in your argument.”

              Calum nodded. He would.

              “And actually,” Luke said, “I think I’m completely off track now. Gotta stop talking about things I like instead of things I should be talking about…” He blushed a little and erased the board. Calum wished he would have left his star cycle up, just so he could look at it. “Where was I?”

              “You were at singularity. But you’ve pretty much explained everything already.”

              “Explanation, not argument.”

              Calum shrugged.

              “You’re right,” Luke said. “But you get what I was trying to say, though?”

              _I do. And I’m going to rebut you so hard._ “I do. I think I’m ready, if that’s okay.” He shook his hands around, feeling his veins start to buzz. “I know what I’m going to say.”

             Luke, smiling, waved him on and sat down. Calum was getting excited, and whatever bad thing he was holding back or trying not to think about didn’t matter right now, Luke felt. He was so glad he could see Calum like this again. He never wanted to not see Calum like this again. Which meant…             

              “Um…wait,” Luke said.

              Calum, already standing, nodded. “Yeah?”

              “Calum, I want to apologize.”

              Calum’s heart started beating faster. He felt heat coming up his neck. He didn’t say anything.

              “I feel as though our last conversation—well, before the game, I mean—didn’t… I said some things that I didn’t mean to say. And I can see how I’ve hurt your feelings. I just want to say that you are absolutely not stupid or inferior or backtracking or anything like that. You’re incredibly smart and so talented—you’re _amazing_ at football, by the way. And I completely understand why things weren’t going as well last week. And I just want to say that I’m sorry for how I treated you.” He looked down at his hands, biting his lip. “You deserve…so much better.”

              Calum stood stock-still. He had no idea what to say. He knew it was his turn now, but he just couldn’t. He didn’t know what to think or what to feel. He felt like running away and crawling inside himself and throwing something and hugging Luke and screaming and crying and singing to the sky all at the same time. So he said:

              “Okay.”

              Luke looked up at him, sorry blue eyes hardly understanding.

              “I forgive you.” _We’ll soon be home… You are forgiven._ “It’s okay.”

              Luke swallowed and nodded.

              And that was over. Back to where they were. Calum took a deep breath. He put his hands together in front of him. “ _This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but a whimper._ ”

              Luke’s chest tightened. “Stop.”

              Calum did. “Okay.”

              Luke looked around. He put his hands through his hair. “You started with a quote. That’s…very good. Catches attention. But…where…I love that poem. It’s my second favorite of all time.”

              “Stephen King,” Calum said. “ _The Stand_.”

              Luke nodded. “T.S. Eliot. “The Hollow Men”.”

              “What’s your first favorite? Is it “The Waste Land”?”

              Luke’s mouth sat open for a brief second. “Yes. _The dry stone no sound of water, only—_ ”

              “— _There is shadow under this red rock._ Stephen King. _The Dark Tower_.”

              “You like Stephen King.”

              “You like T.S. Eliot.”

              They looked at each other. “Continue,” Luke said.

              “The sun won’t explode, the planets won’t get sucked into fire. The universe won’t collapse. There is no evidence to suggest such a collapse, and therefore the universe must be expanding.”

              “Stop.”

              Calum pressed his lips together.

              “Fallacious argument.”

              “Fallacious?”

              “Faulty rhetoric. Remember that day in class? The same day you first came here? You’re using appeal to ignorance: just because one side hasn’t been proven doesn’t mean the other is true.”

              Calum nodded. Right. And he’d been so sure of himself. Then Luke had apologized and things had gotten weird. Still were weird. “Of course. So, if I say…evidence suggests that the universe _is_ expanding. Scientists, when viewing celestial bodies over time, have found that red shifts are quite common—the objects are moving away, in all directions.” Luke blinked slowly. Back on track. Good. “This is not to say that they are moving away from Earth. In fact, it is likely that Earth itself is moving as well. Away from whatever center—the proposed singularity—” he put his hand out toward Luke; this is why he wanted to go second, “—with everything else. Evidence like this helps to prove the gradual expansion of the universe over time. And as these objects continue outward, particularly Earth, they move farther and farther away from each other object. Eventually the earth will become so distant from the sun that its heat energy won’t be enough for life as we have now to survive, much like Neptune, Pluto, or objects in the Oort Cloud.”

              Dang. Luke didn’t even know what that was. He was going to assume it was a real thing.

              “And thus, for Earth, the end is ice.”

              Calum paused. Luke thought that maybe he was employing the same rhetorical tactic that he used, but he saw Calum’s face darken, and his student lowered his head just slightly, staring through the floor. For some reason, it was really intimidating. No, Calum wasn’t doing it for effect. Calum was in thought—an inactive, absent thought. A state of realization or intuition, when some other force radiates information into the depths of your brain without your direct knowledge, blocking everything else out in its arrival.

              Luke rarely received these moments. Ashton got them sometimes. He looked a lot like Calum did now.

              Calum suddenly looked back up, his eyes flashing. “But for the universe…”

              _There_ , Luke thought. He’d done as Luke had asked. Or suggested, anyway.

              “…darkness. Bodies—galaxies nebulae stars planets everything—”

              He even remembered the exact order Luke had used.

              “—will expand and expand outward to such vast distances that _light_ won’t reach from one place to another for a hundred, a million lifetimes. The process of our solar system, but on a universal scale. Literally.” He grinned. “We—”

              “Let me stop you right there.”

              Calum’s eyes flicked over to him. “Why? Did I—”

              “No. Because you’ve already won.”

              Calum smiled again. “Really? But I’ve barely said anything.”

              Luke shook his head, standing up to meet Calum’s level. “You don’t need anything else. Sometimes…” He thought. “It’s amazing what a little feeling can add to an argument. The whole point of debate, like I said in class today, is not to be better than your opponent, but to get the people listening to believe _you_. Believe your ideas and your views. And I can tell you that you would have done just that. Not to mention that your fact base was stronger than mine.” _And_ _the look in your eyes…completely penetrating. I felt I could see into your soul, and you could see into mine._ “Well done.”

              In all honesty, Luke was finding that he couldn’t handle this little charade anymore. He wanted this awkwardness and this distance between them to end, but he didn’t know what to do about it. He stopped Calum so that they could just sit and talk. He wanted to try and get Calum to say what he was feeling. Assuming Calum even knew.

              Calum shrugged. “Well…you gave me the easier side.”

              “Did I?”

              Calum looked into his eyes. Something was there—whatever had been there when they’d finished talking halfway through the football game. Whatever had been behind that smile of his. “I think so.”

              Luke shrugged. But he knew. It had paid off.

              “So…is that it then? I’ve passed for today?”

              Luke almost laughed. “Yes. By far.” But…that didn’t mean it was time to go—

              “Okay,” Calum said. “Cool.” He looked at Luke, almost smiling. “That was fun. I really liked the topic.”

              “You came up with it.”

              “Sort of.”

              Luke tilted his head.

              “Well…” Calum put on his backpack. He started moving for the door.

              Luke nearly started to grab his arm. _No no. Wait. This isn’t what I intended._

              Calum, walking, said, “I guess I—wait.” He halted. “What time is it?”

              They looked up at the clock. It was almost eight. They’d been talking—and sitting awkwardly and blinking and looking at each other—for nearly two hours. Holy…

              “Crap.” Calum slumped a little. “The buses don’t run this late.”

              Luke’s mouth opened. “Oh…fuck. Why didn’t I think of—I bussed in after the conference because I didn’t want to use the gasoline.” He groaned.

              Calum cracked a smile. That was the first time Luke had sworn in front of him. Plus he looked suddenly really flustered and his eyes had gone wide and it wasn’t that big of a deal but it made him looker younger and honestly it was kind of

              ( _adorable_ )

              funny. “I guess we’re both walking, huh.”

              Luke sighed. “I guess.” He looked at Calum and his brow furrowed. “Which dorm hall are you in?”

              Calum’s heart started beating faster. Why? It was a normal question. “Gordon.”

              “That’s at least two miles away.”

              Calum shrugged.

              “And it’s right on the edge of campus. Near project housing.”

              He nodded.

              “In the dark.”

              Calum rolled his eyes, his lips quivering and trying so hard to smile even more and show some teeth. “Yeah. I know where I live.”

              “I’m walking you back.”

              Calum had to protest. It was what a normal person would usually do except that things were so different between the two of them. This was a scripted moment, and he had to follow the lines. “But it’ll take half an hour and then you’ll get home really late.”

              “I don’t care. We’re going.” Luke grabbed his bag while Calum watched, crossing his arms more to hug himself and keep everything in than anything else. Luke stepped past him to get the door.

              “Are you sure?” Calum asked. “I’m sure I’ll be okay if—”

              “Calum,” Luke said, and turned around to face him, opening the door. “It’s not up for debate.”

              Calum nearly choked. Luke couldn’t suppress a big grin. Neither laughed, but it was in the air. The wall was still between them, but it was cracking.

              “All right,” Calum said and started through the door. He hit the light switch as he walked through, as if he’d done it a hundred times before.

              Luke followed, closing and locking the door behind him.

 

They stepped outside of H Building into the night air.

              Now it was time to talk, Luke thought. Now it was time to get everything out. But he had to be careful. He still couldn’t say certain things yet. But he still felt that it was Calum’s turn.

              “Calum. I think—”

              “So, _have_ you heard of the Brobecks?”

              Luke cut off. _No Calum. Stop running away._ He sighed, silently. “I think I might have heard something by them a while back. Something about…a bicycle?”

              Calum made a gesture. “Was it odd but melodic sounding with, like, sweet lyrics and lots of lead guitar, or quicker and happy sounding with heavy bass and…I guess unhappy lyrics. Lyrics of a person who doesn’t know where they are or what they’re feeling and don’t care about anything because… _I’m in hell, I’ve got to tell somebody new._ ”

              Calum sang the line softly.

              Luke was incredibly conflicted. Because of that line, his heart had swelled and he wanted to do things very opposite from what he wanted to do when Calum had decided he wasn’t going to talk—at least, not about the important things. And that line…that was exactly how he was feeling before he’d gone to see Ashton. And then he’d gotten that thing off his chest because he’d _told_ somebody and he felt lighter. Was that how Calum was feeling? And what about?

              He let out a breath. “I think it was the sweeter one. With French.”

              “ “Le Velo Pour Deux”.”

              _Oh my_ God _. Stop doing this. Singing…French…the way your skin looks with this half-moon out… Do you even know?_

“That must be it. Calum we need to talk.”

              Calum swallowed and his throat clicked. He put his hands in his pockets and watched the ground pass underneath them. “We just did.”

              “No. About—”

              Suddenly Calum looked up at him. The half-moon reflected in his eyes. He looked very scared. Because of Luke? Or because of himself? “I don’t know,” he said.

              And now Luke felt bad. “Okay. It’s okay. We can…do that later. Um…” Maybe now? Oh well. Now or never. “So, did I ever mention the competition in Feldmann Hall near the end of the semester?”

              Calum visibly relaxed. “I think you said something about it in class maybe.”

              “Okay. So, I was thinking that you’ve been getting really good at this. I wondered if you wanted to maybe be on a team? Or even—if you want—in the individual category? I hear there are some very good students this year. My colleague actually says he has one in particular—Michael, I think his name was? I’ve never met him. Anyway, he’s apparently quite good—his best, he says—and he’ll be debating individual. I think you could take the others on. You’re at that level and with the rest of class left, I think you’ll surpass a lot of them quite quick.”

              Calum didn’t say anything for a while. Then: “I’m not sure yet.”

              Luke nodded. He wasn’t going to push it but…he really wished Calum would say yes. “That’s fine. And we’ll have some mock debates in class—that’s just standard. I probably should have started them already, actually. Oh no, wait.” He remembered something. “Actually, next week on Tuesday for the double block the classes are going to get together to do debates between students. I think I’ve got Ashton’s class—that’s my colleague. Maybe I can get you to meet him and his students who are in the competition. I’ll see if I can arrange your debate to be with them. Try to figure out a team…”

              Calum’s mind was everywhere. So…maybe Ashton was that guy from the picture? That was the most likely option, he thought, even though he’d just heard the name for the first time. And who was Michael? He was afraid to be working against Luke’s friend’s best student. Calum didn’t think he was ready for that yet. And should he do Feldmann? Not a group, because he didn’t like people, but not individual because he was too nervous. Maybe this first in-class thing would let him know. And yes, he did want to meet Ashton. Ashton was his rook, his piece that would help him navigate this unknown thing that was Luke’s mind. If he could get to him, that is.

              And yet he still couldn’t say anything but, “Okay.”

              Luke nodded. And they walked in silence for a long time.

              Once, Luke mentioned that halfway through the next year Venus would be in the sky, conditions allowing. Calum said that was cool and that maybe he’d see it.

              Once, Calum said that scientists may have discovered the existence of a ninth planet, past Pluto, in the solar system. Luke said he’d heard about it on the news and that it, too, was cool.

              Otherwise, the rest was silence.

              _That it should come to this!_

_Though this be madness, yet there is method in’t._

_This above all…_

And then they were at Gordon Hall.

              They stopped in front of the steps leading up to the double doors. The wall Calum had felt earlier was still clearly there. Now he wished it would just go away. Or that he could break it down.

              “Luke, I…”

              Luke turned to face him directly. Was it time? Was he ready? He thought so.

              Calum looked up at him. He kicked his heel on the ground and drew in a shaky breath of night air. “I’m sorry.”

              “For what?”

              Calum barked a laugh. “For what. For how I was treating you. I really shouldn’t have gotten so mad. You didn’t _actually_ say anything that—”

              “I did. I’m sorry. Again.”

              Calum shook his head. “If anything, it was me hearing what I wanted to hear. I mean…didn’t want to hear? I don’t know. But I was really rude and I was just in a bad mood because of football, but that’s better now and it’s because of you. I probably wouldn’t have thought of—”

              “You would have.”

              Calum blinked. He gave a small, sad smile. “Maybe, but…thank you. And I’m really sorry. I really like talking to you and you’ve seriously helped me a lot. I feel like I messed it up and something happened and things got sour and awkward.”

              “That was half me. I’m naturally super awkward.”

              “And yet among all my nastiness you’ve been nothing but kind to me.”

              Luke bit his lip, letting it slide back out from his teeth. “Maybe we’re both to blame. But I think we’ve both fixed it. Is that…right?”

              Calum looked back and forth between Luke’s eyes. The streetlight in front of the building was shining, sodium orange, reflecting off of Luke’s pupils. Tiny flames, calling for help; himself, castaway, lost at sea in the cerulean pools of Luke’s irises.

              The wall broke. _Shattered_.

              Calum stepped forward and hugged Luke on impulse.

              Luke rocked back a little, then steadied himself. Oh God oh God. Calum was hugging him. Calum had his arms around his neck and his face turned outward. Calum’s fingers were pressing into his sides. Calum’s hair was touching his jaw. Oh God.

              Calum realized Luke wasn’t hugging him back. He shouldn’t have done this. Why had he done this? He’d been feeling everything and his body just moved and he shouldn’t have—

              Luke wrapped his arms around Calum’s torso, lightly. His knew his eyes were totally wide and even though he was still shocked he found a way to close them and he tilted his head down a little and his chin came to rest on Calum’s shoulder. He pulled his arms just a little bit tighter.

              It was only about five seconds, maybe eight. But for each of them it felt both much longer and far too short. But they pulled away from each other.

              Calum clicked his teeth and put his hands in his pockets.

              Luke cleared his throat and closed his hands behind his back.

              They shouldn’t have done that. It was completely inappropriate. What if someone had seen? Of course no one had seen. It was almost nine at night and people were either sleeping, working, or partying somewhere else. Luke wondered if he’d broken a rule just now. He’d definitely broken a moral. But he had liked it. Wanted it. Of course he had wanted it.

              Calum had hugged him. Calum had hugged _him_.

              “Thank you for walking me home, Luke.”

              “Of course. For your safety.” _Christ_.

              “My safety.” Calum’s mouth curled up in a bit of a smile.

              Oh? What did that mean? “Yes.”

              Luke wanted more. Luke wanted to hug him again but this time he wanted Calum to turn his head the other way so that his breath would be soft on Luke’s neck and—

              _Stop. Just STOP. He’s not a piece of clay. Don’t try and shape this. Let it happen._

              He couldn’t believe he’d just thought about Calum that way. What was happening to him? “Just love” was snowballing fast and turning into something that was not good for Luke’s sanity. This was so wrong. Calum was a student. Rules and regulations and professionalism and all of that.

              But Calum had hugged _him_. Surely since Luke didn’t initiate, it wasn’t breaking a rule, right? Couldn’t be.

              Suddenly, Luke pointed upward at the sky. “That’s Pegasus,” he said, pointing out a constellation in the right hemisphere of the sky.

              Calum looked up. “I’m not very good at this.”

              “That’s okay. Next to Pegasus is Andromeda,” he moved his finger to the left and up just a tiny bit. “And then over here,” left again, “is Fornax. The furnace.”

              “Yeah?”

              Luke nodded. “It doesn’t have a myth behind it but it represents a chemical furnace where experiments might be done. I don’t know why I think that’s cool. I guess I just think the name is kind of badass.” He pointed even further to the left. “That’s Caelum.” He glanced down at Calum, and they both smiled at the near-identical names. “It’s the engraver’s chisel. I think I liked those two because they made me feel like I had power over my life. The chisel to carve my own path and the furnace to create everything I wanted to be. I think I sort of did it. I guess I’m still working on it.”

              “You’re very cliché, Luke.”

              Well then. He thought he’d been cool, carving his own path.

              Calum laughed, seeing the look on his face. “No. Not that. Pointing at the stars. It’s like _A Beautiful Mind_ or something.”

              _Yours is._ “Oh. Yeah I guess so. So many movies do that, don’t they.”

              Calum smiled, looking at his feet again, then back up at Luke. “Yeah. But it’s okay.” He paused and looked at the stars, unable to see any of the constellations Luke pointed out. “It’s okay.”

              “Is it?”

              They looked at each other. They both knew Luke was talking about them.

              “Yes. I think so. I think it’s back.”

              “I’m glad.”

              “Me too.”

              Finally, the end to all this ridiculousness. Were they going to hug again?

              “Good night, Luke. Thanks again.”

              No, they weren’t.

              “Good night, Calum.”

              Calum realized that his feelings had finally condensed into one solid, light thing that was enwrapping his heart. He couldn’t name it, but he knew what it was. He knew it was for Luke. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

              “Okay.”

              Calum stared for just a moment, then turned and went up the steps and through the doors.

              Luke started walking back to his apartment, over a mile away. But he didn’t care. His mind wasn’t on the walk ahead. His mind was in front of the steps.


	9. Meeting of the Four

Both Calum and Luke found himself wishing he had the other’s phone number.

              Luke would think of some random thing he wanted to say to Calum, then come up with a piece of debate advice he could text to Calum to get the conversation started. But no. And Calum would think of something he wanted to say to Luke, maybe a topic they could talk about. But then he remembered that he had to wait.

              Wednesday was the longest day either of them had ever experienced, but Thursday finally rolled around, and Luke let the class out fifteen minutes early. They went directly to the office, talking about music along the way, and stayed for over an hour. They debated the two sides of an Ebola outbreak: let people who may not be infected out of the country and into others, or quarantine everyone, even if there’s a higher chance that they too will get infected. Calum argued the quarantine side, and Luke praised him highly once again, even saying that he had believed in admitting people previously but now had a better idea of what that might cause because of Calum’s oddly extensive knowledge on the multiple different strains of Ebola and their effects on and lethality towards the human population. Apparently he’d read a book about it. Luke was once again amazed.

              They didn’t talk about the hug, but they did hug again when it was time for Calum to leave for practice.

              Over the weekend, Luke unconsciously changed his walking route, passing by Gordon Hall both to get to an obscure, out of the way bus stop, and to go to Ashton’s apartment. He never saw Calum directly, but once he thought he saw Calum getting on his bus just as he turned the corner on Monday morning. But he was probably just seeing what he wanted to see.

              Luke talked to Ashton just as much as before. Ashton was happy for Luke, saying that the first hug was always a step in the right direction. Always; as if he knew. Luke still didn’t know what was going on with Ashton. He seemed even more chirpy than he usually was, especially when Luke was talking about Calum. Maybe he was just _really_ happy for him. Which was sweet.

              But wrong. On the topic of Ashton’s personal life and main source of happiness, Luke was still entirely clueless.

              Luke found himself desperate to see Calum again, to hear Calum speak. He still wanted to hear him sing. He still wanted to hear him play bass. He still wanted more than what he was getting now.

              And Calum floated along, knowing he wanted to be near Luke but unaware of exactly what he was feeling for his teacher. As far as introspection went, Calum had never been the greatest at it. And the only person that had been successful at truly seeing into Calum was Luke. And yet, on this subject too, Luke was clueless. He could only hope, and wait.

 

Until Tuesday, when it was time for their first in-class mock debate.

              Calum’s early morning class had been cancelled, so he’d spent the time in his dorm, bingeing some idiotic yet completely hilarious comedy on Netflix with Zooey Deschanel as quirky, only-girl roommate to three guys. He’d been through four episodes already, and had been watching the one where Cece tells Jess that guys point their feet at you subconsciously if they want you. Calum had never heard that before. He’d heard in a movie that a guy would adjust his belt if he was thinking about sex. He knew that Luke rarely wore a belt. But this was new. Then he had glanced up to the top of his phone screen and realized it was time to go. He’d finished the last five minutes of the episode, thinking more and more that Cece was right. And he had packed and went down to his bus to finally go see Luke again. Or…go to class again.

              And here he was. Here Luke was.

              “All right, everybody. So, I sent out an email over the weekend letting you all know that we’d be having our first mock debate today. My colleague, Mr. Irwin, and his class will be meeting us in the banquet room next to the auditorium in Feldmann Hall today. Actually…I probably should have just had us go there first instead of meeting here.”

              The class audibly sighed. Calum couldn’t help but smile. Luke looked suddenly out of place. And yes, he should have appointed the rendezvous beforehand. Oh well.

              Off they went. Luckily, Feldmann Hall was only a few blocks away.

              Calum walked with Luke, back behind the bulk of the class.

              “What are we talking about today?” he asked, then added, “Sir.”

              Luke bit his lip, trying not to laugh. Right. They were near the other students. They needed to be professional. “I’ve had a few ideas in mind. There’s one in particular my colleague seemed to like.”

              “What was his name again?” Calum asked strategically.

              “My colleague? Mr. Irwin. Well, Ashton’s his first name.”

              Ashton Irwin. Understood. “What does he look like?”

              “Uh…he’s got curly brown hair. He’s a bit shorter than us but just barely. He’s small—not, like, little but…small—but also really muscular. Drummer’s arms. Did I tell you he plays?”

              “Don’t think so.”

              “He does. Really well. And he wears this black hat like all the time.”

              Yeah, that was definitely the guy Calum had seen in the photos and on the street. But now he couldn’t just ask where Ashton lived. That would seem way too intrusive. Because it was. But he had the name and he could find Ashton really easily over social media, and probably on the university server as well. It was possible that he could figure out where he lived. At least if it was on or off campus.

              “Cool,” he said.

              “He’s a really great guy. We’re friends. He means a lot to me. We actually went here together and now we’re both grad students. He wants to be department chair here some time in the future. And he’s going to do it, too. He’s an incredible debater.”

              Calum watched Luke’s face as he talked about his friend. Calum could tell they were really close. It was nice to see that Luke had someone like that. Ashton was Luke’s Peter. And if there were anyone that could tell Calum more about Luke, Ashton was him.

              “You said he had a star student like me?”

              Luke scoffed. “Don’t get cocky now.”

              “I’m not,” Calum said, smiling. “I’m just curious.”

              “Yeah,” Luke said. “Michael, he’s called. I’ve never met him. I guess we’ll see him today. Right about now.” He raised his hand up to his mouth. “Here, everyone. Door next to the main entrance. There.” He lowered his voice again, speaking only to Calum. “This is Feldmann.” He pointed.

              They stopped for a moment. Calum looked through the wide glass doors that were the main entrance. There was a velvet-carpeted foyer leading into a main waiting area. Just past it were two flights of stairs leading upwards to the left or right. Four doors, two on each side of either floor. Behind them, Calum assumed, the auditorium.

              “It’s big,” he said.

              “It is. I went twice. Never won. Ashton won our senior year. It was spectacular. You could do it.”

              Calum shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”

              Luke nodded. “That’s okay. You have time to think. Just know that I think you have every ounce of potential. And I hope you agree to it.”

              Calum half-smiled. “Thank you.” He looked down in shyness, and noticed Luke’s feet. Was it just a coincidence that they were pointing right at him, or…?

              “Let’s head in,” Luke said.

 

Tables were set up around the walls of the otherwise empty banquet room, numbered one to twelve. The students were mingling; some of them knew each other. Calum and Luke made their way in.

              “There he is. Back there,” Luke said, pointing. Ashton was near the back right corner, talking to a guy with green hair. “That must be…Michael?”

              Calum followed Luke’s finger and saw.

              Both of them stopped in their tracks, both for similar but different reasons.

              What Luke thought was: _The guy from the bar_. Immediately, he remembered Ashton saying that he recognized the green-haired performer because he had seen him in the bar before. That he came sometimes on Thursday for solo night. But if that was Michael, Ashton’s best student who he had worked individually with, then obviously Ashton knew him a lot better than that. Why had he lied? Luke felt that weirdness again, that there was something that should be obvious to him that he wasn’t seeing that had to do with Ashton. What _was_ it?

              What Calum thought was: _The guy from the street_. That was the same guy he had seen with who he now knew was Ashton, back on Capitol Road by the Union Center. He had green hair now, but it was definitely the same person. The same person who had gotten way too close to Ashton to be just student-teacher or even just friends. So this guy, Michael, was Ashton’s student. Ashton’s best student. So then… If Calum was right about them being in some form of relationship, then that meant it was possible. Possible for a student and a teacher to be together. And more than that—possible for a debate teacher and his best mentee-student to be together. Michael was to Ashton as Calum, though unaware of it, was becoming to Luke. Oh God. This was not what Calum needed right now. He needed to be focusing on the practice they had today not…oh God. He made an effort not to glance over at Luke. He _had_ to talk to Ashton alone. As soon as he got the chance, he would find him.

              “So…” Luke said. “Yeah. That’s Michael then.”

              “I guess so.”

              Ashton and Michael were standing together amidst the other students. They were talking, and Ashton said something that made Michael laugh. He squinted his eyes and clapped, leaning forward a bit.

              “He’s pretty,” Calum said. _No. Fuck. Why did I say that?_

“He is.” _No, why did I say that?_

              Michael answered Ashton with something, and they both laughed again. When they calmed down, Ashton put his hand forward and touched Michael’s arm. Michael smiled down at him. And then they just looked at each other.

              Luke thought he had an idea of what he might have been missing. It made his stomach flip over in the best of ways. He looked over at Calum and swallowed.

              “Should we go over there?”

              “Yeah. Let’s meet them,” Calum said.

              They went to the other pair just like them. Almost.

              Ashton turned as they walked up. “Luke!”

              “You sound surprised to see me,” Luke said, smiling. They hugged.

              Calum felt something that could have been jealousy and told himself to stop.

              “I’m just glad our classes got paired.” All at once, Ashton turned. “And you must be Calum.” He stuck out his hand.

              For a moment, Calum only looked at it. _And you must be Calum_. That meant Luke must have been talking about him. What had Luke said? “Oh. Yes. Nice to meet you, Mr. Irwin.”

              “Jesus, just Ashton.”

              Calum smiled and nodded.

              “Luke’s told me a bit about you.” Luke shot Ashton a look, but Calum didn’t notice.

              _Like what?_ Calum thought. “Has he?”

              Ashton nodded. “He says you’re probably going to go to Feldmann this year.”

              Calum couldn’t help but smile; in his periphery, he could see Luke flushing red. “Well, I’m not sure yet. But I’m very much enjoying debate. I seem to have a knack for it.”

              Ashton smiled at him. “Well, if you do go to Feldmann, for individual that is, you’re going to have some stiff competition.”

              “Oh?”

              Green hair—Michael—had been standing quietly the whole time, listening. Now he put his hand out, a somewhat cocky smile painting his red lips. “Nice to meet you, Calum. Michael.”

              Calum took his hand and shook it weakly. There was something radiating off of Michael that made Calum want to shrink back. Pure confidence.

              _I’ve seen you before, but you don’t know that. Are you with Ashton? Like,_ with _Ashton? Because if you are I think for some reason that I would like to know. Not sure why but…I’d like to know._

“Hi.”

              Michael pulled his hand away, crossing his arms behind his back and leaning onto one hip, closer to Ashton. The little grin remained on his face.

              The smile, the stance, the hair, the piercing. He was _so_ intimidating.

              Calum cleared his throat. There was a bit of silence.

              “Nice to meet you, Michael,” Luke said, saving them. They shook hands and Michael returned once again to his position over the rest of them. “I think I saw you in the bar last Thursday? The C&Y?”

              Ashton suddenly stiffened, squeezing his hands together and looking at the ground. Luke noticed it. Ashton knew he’d been caught. Luke decided he would bring it up later.

              Michael nodded. “That would have been me, yes.”

              “You’re quite good. At singing and guitar.” Luke swallowed.

              “Thank you,” Michael said like he already knew and didn’t need one person to tell him. But then his face softened a bit and he said, “I wrote that one for someone really important to me.”

              Luke knew. Oh, he knew. He was ecstatic. He didn’t look at Ashton. He already knew Ashton would still be looking at the ground, hiding a blush under the brim of his hat.

              And Michael only stood there, smiling, head tilted, eyes partially lidded.

              “I liked it,” Luke said. “So, should we pull everyone together?” he asked, bringing Ashton back into this world.

              “Oh. Yes. We’re late, aren’t we.”

              “Very.”

              Ashton got everyone’s attention. “Okay, everyone. We’re going to be putting you into teams of three—two to make points and one rebutter. You all already know, my class is against Mr. Hemmings’s class here. And we’re going to win, not that it matters.”

              A chuckle went around the room. Luke glanced at Calum: not paying attention—looking at Michael and thinking hard. Now Luke felt a pang of what he figured was jealousy but then told himself to stop. Then Calum pulled out his phone, texting someone briefly. Luke looked at Michael: standing obviously next to—with—Ashton, looking like an overseer, some king with all power. How could one person have all the confidence in the world? And didn’t the other people notice? Maybe not.

              “We have a few other teachers coming in to observe since there will be so many groups. Mr. Lee, Ms. Holly, Mr. Chwe, and Mr. Collins will be circling the room, listening to the debates, all right?”

              Luke looked around and found the group of four, standing off to the side of the mass of undergrads. They put their hands up respectfully.     

              Ashton continued. “They will also assign your group one of two topics, whichever they see fit, yes?” Nods from the peanut gallery. “So when I call your last name I’ll tell you your table number and you’ll go with your group and meet your opponents. And remember, you don’t have to be perfect. These are impromptu debates. When we give you topics beforehand we’ll expect more, but today, just do your best. It’s sort of a participation day. Okay…” He pulled out a piece of paper with the groups listed. “Table one, right here—” he pointed to the corner they were closest to, “—from Mr. Hemmings’s class: Weekes, Cara, and Hood. From my class: Reinhart, King, and M—” he shook his head, “Clifford. You all can go on over with Mr. Hemmings and wait to start.”

              They did.

              “Table two…”

              After Ashton finished setting the groups, he talked briefly with the other teachers and then came over to stand next to Luke in front of table one where the students sat on either side of an open space. “Have you given them their topic yet?”

              “Oh. No. Sorry.” Luke looked at the students, then just at Calum. “Okay, guys. We’ve decided on your topic. We’ll give you your prompt, and then you’ll have five minutes to plan out your arguments, all right?”

              They all nodded, save for Michael, who only looked. Looked like he’d already won.

              “Okay. Video games have become a big topic of discussion in the media today. Some see them as an aid to children and young adults, while others believe that they may affect users psychologically in ways that are unfavorable to the player and the general public. Using your knowledge of different types of video games, discuss how they may affect users and how the effects relate to and take part in the wider society.” He nodded.

              Calum pressed his lips together, trying not to grin at Luke. He knew exactly what was happening. Luke wanted to hear what Calum had to say—what he should have said in that stupid assignment that he’d done such a terrible job on because his emotions were running on overdrive. They still were, but he was suppressing it mindlessly. Maybe that was a bad thing, and maybe he should be dealing with what he felt for certain things—certain people—more head-on, but…at least he was happy. Wasn’t he? Sure. He looked at Luke, and the corner of Luke’s mouth curled up just the tiniest bit.

              “Luke’s team is pro, my team is con, in case you’d like to know,” Ashton said sardonically, and the students smiled and nodded. Michael blinked his eyes slowly. To Luke, he looked like he was here on a level far below where he really belonged. Luke looked back at Calum, who certainly wasn’t anywhere near as confident as Michael, but he was sitting up straight and Luke could practically see the gears working in his brain. He was really excited. He wondered what Calum would be like working in a group.

              “Oh yeah. Sorry.” He smiled shyly.

              “Time starts now,” Ashton said.

              Immediately, Luke saw, Michael faced his team and began delegating, instructing, taking full command. Calum and his team turned to each other and it took a second for them to start planning, but it worked out fine.

              Luke turned to Ashton. “Michael looks like he really knows what he’s doing. Have you guys discussed this topic already?”

              Ashton shook his head. “Nope. He’s just…a very good student. Knows his stuff. My best.”

              He flicked his eyes over at Luke, and Luke gave him a look: _I know, Ashton. It took until I finally met him to understand, but I know. And I love it. Really, I do._

“We’ll talk after class,” Luke said.

              Ashton laughed a little. “Yes, sir.”

              They faced their teams, and watched closely.

 

Pro, as per the rules, was first. Calum had decided he wanted to rebut, simply because he hadn’t really had experience with it yet and for some reason was feeling confident enough about the topic to try it out. So Dallon was up now to make the first point.

              Luke stood next to Ashton, watching as Dallon stood and went to the empty space at the center of the table. Dallon was a good student, had a B+ in the class. Luke had never heard him speak before, but he seemed calm. Luke had actually expected Calum to go first, but this was fine too. Anything Calum chose was fine.

              Dallon cleared his throat. “So, video games can actually have positive effects on their players. A lot of games like Call of Duty and those kinds of first-person shooter ones apparently give kids better vision and hand-eye coordination and multitasking skills. Also, games like Civilization and XCOM help kids learn planning, following instructions, and strategy. Um…so those are some benefits that video games might have on their players.”

              He went and sat back down.

              Okay, so maybe Luke should have spent a little less time teaching rhetoric and a little more time teaching debate structure. That should have lasted longer. And he should have expanded more. Luke thought that maybe since Calum had come onto it so naturally, he figured everyone else would, too. Dallon’s points were actually good ones, but the argument wasn’t the best. Oh well. Next week.

              The girl from Ashton’s class went up next. Luke asked Ashton her name; he said it was Elle. That was pretty.

              “One reason video games are bad for kids is that they end up spending all day indoors on their computer or Xbox or something. So instead of going outside or spending time with their real friends, if they have any, they’re sitting inside all the time and not socializing with anyone but the voices on the other side. This can lead to the inability to form proper relationships, and can cause problems for the child later in life—such as when they go to college and need to network, or when they want to get a job and can’t interact with others properly. It can also contribute, thanks to the lack of social interaction, to isolation and depression.”

              She sat back down next to Michael. Michael gave her a little nod. She’d done better than Dallon had. Round one to Ashton’s team.

              Luke was about to stop them and give a few notes, but Alessia was already up from her seat to take her turn.

              “Actually, video games have proven to be a fairly good form of social networking for kids. It’s like texting, talking on the phone, or sometimes even FaceTiming. Players hook up their accounts to a worldwide system and can interact with other players both through the gameplay and through chat boxes or headsets. So, social interaction may not be face-to-face, but players still learn how to be around others, and in a society like ours where technology is becoming ever more prominent, it may come to be an advantage.”

              Luke put his hands up. “Okay. Notes?” Alessia went back to her seat. Luke looked at her. “That was very good. You’re not technically supposed to be rebutting, but you expanded on your point, so that was good. Good stage manner too. Dallon, you had _multiple_ good points, but you needed to expand more. Yes?” Both students nodded. “Both of you, _more_ next time. But good job, guys.”

              “Elle, you started out a little informal but then you picked it up when you started talking about forming relationships,” Ashton said. “Work on that a little. Good job not saying ‘um,’ though. I think you’ve kicked the habit.” He gave her a smile, and she returned it.

              Ashton had obviously worked with his class more than Luke had. Maybe he’d been spending too much time with Calum… Well, that wasn’t going to change, so too bad. He knew that wasn’t how he should be thinking about it—he was first and foremost a teacher—but he didn’t really care. He liked talking to Calum. He liked seeing Calum grow in this subject. He liked listening to Calum and watching Calum and hugging Calum. And he would do nothing to make that stop any time soon.

              Calum wasn’t sure he liked this whole group thing. The points were good but they weren’t cohesive. He’d have to get up there and try to tie them together while he was trying to rebut at the same time. Yeah, he definitely wasn’t going to Feldmann in a group. And was Michael up next? He hoped so. If he wasn’t, then that meant Michael would be going last, which was the optimal position for pulling everything together and making last points against your opponents. In fact, Calum didn’t even need to wonder. Michael was definitely going last. And he was confident about it too. Oh boy… He looked over at Michael: essentially expressionless, save for that miniscule curve of the lips. Michael seemed to sense Calum’s gaze and he turned his head to look back at him. His face seemed to say, _Don’t sweat it. We’ve already won_. It made Calum want to squirm, for a few reasons. The confidence was really appealing. He could see why Ashton had chosen this guy. He looked over at Luke. Luke was already looking at him. Luke twitched when Calum faced him, and he looked away quickly, turning his whole body just slightly, including his feet. Well…Luke definitely didn’t have the same confidence, at least not when he was just standing there. When they talked and when Luke was arguing his side, he had all that confidence and more. And his eyes would brighten and his manner would change and he would become so prominent and important and it made Calum feel… But any other time, Luke was Luke. Calum watched Luke bite his lip, deliberately not looking at Calum. _He’s so awkward sometimes_ , Calum thought. It was the same awkwardness Calum could feel swirling out from Luke’s body when they hugged. He thought it was kind of cute, actually.

              Wait. What.

              “Anyway, keep going guys,” Ashton said. “Haley?”

              The girl stood, curly hair bouncing as she shot a wink over at Dallon, who tilted his head just so.

              _Jesus_ , Calum thought. Was literally everyone but him in a relationship with someone here?

              Haley spoke: “So, another reason why video games are bad for kids is because it can cause some health problems. Like we said, they’re probably staying inside a lot more than they should be, and most likely sitting down, too. So obesity is one health issue that could arise. Um, things like carpal tunnel and tendonitis can occur in the hands if they are being used rigorously so often, like what might happen for typists or pianists. Muscular disorders can happen from lack of exercise. More latent dysfunctions than manifest but they’re still bad for the child. And of course, disabilities make it harder to exist normally in society. Although ‘normalcy’ isn’t really—”

              “Off track, hon,” Ashton said. “Good points. Next time expand on those all right? I’ll make sure we get a chance in class to debate sociology and that’ll be your time.”

              Haley sat back down.

              “Okay,” Luke said. “Now you two—” He looked between Calum and Michael and his brain started flying in all different directions. Talk to Ashton about Michael; talk to Calum about anything. “Uh…you have…how much time, Ash?”

              “Three minutes.”

              “Three minutes to prepare your argu—your rebuttals. Okay?”

              Calum nodded. Michael looked.

              “Time starts now,” Ashton said again, and gave Michael a knowing look. Then he faced Luke again, speaking so only he could hear. “Jesus, that was awful.”

              “Nah. Not too bad.”

              “Elle and Haley have both done better. I have to remind myself that this is an intro class and I’m not to expect perfection. I guess I’m so used to it from Mi—” He shut his mouth.

              “Oh yeah we’re still talking about that later. Don’t you worry.” Luke smiled.

              Ashton rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. But hey, Calum’s up next. I’m excited. You say he’s gotten really good.”

              “He has. So good. I want him to do Feldmann so bad.”

              “I’m sure he will.”

              “You think so?”

              Ashton nodded. “Because you want him to.”

              Luke tilted his head. “What do you mean? Do you think he… I’m not sure he feels that way.”

              Ashton shrugged. “Have you asked him?”

              Luke scoffed. “You don’t just ask.”

              “Don’t you?”

              Well…maybe you did. Maybe that was the only way he was ever going to find out. Why did Ashton always have to be right? But…he couldn’t. _Calum, do you like me? Like, like like me because I like like you I think. I’m not…I don’t know._ _Do you? And I know I’m your teacher and it’s really inappropriate but I feel things for you that I really hope you feel for me too. Do you?_ Yeah, no thank you. Luke was awkward enough as it was.

              He shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

              “Sure you can.”

              “No. I can’t. Look at him.”

              They did. Calum was leaning over the table, scribbling words onto a piece of paper as fast as he could. He was really into it, and Luke couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say. Would he take the psychological route? Would he be really emotional like he was when talking about space? That would be nice. Luke liked to see Calum like that. He was beautiful like that. He was beautiful any way.

              “Yeah. I see him,” Ashton said. “He’s just a guy.”

              “He’s just a _student_.”

              Ashton shrugged again. “True. But still just a guy. Who might be willing to break a few rules.”

              Luke didn’t know what to say. What if Ashton was right? Ashton probably was right since he was doing exactly what they were talking about. What if—no. Calum _didn’t_ feel that way. Luke would know if he did. Right? He could usually tell how Calum was feeling. But…only if Calum knew what he was feeling.

              Oh God. If Calum didn’t know then Luke wouldn’t know either because of this ridiculous circular thing they were taking part in. One of them feels, one of them shows, the other knows, the other either feels or doesn’t feel, the other knows… Round and round. And it was back at Luke. Or Calum? Christ, this was all way too confusing.

              Maybe Calum did feel something but he wasn’t letting it through to himself, in turn keeping Luke from seeing it too. Maybe.

              But he could not ask. Not yet.

              “Time,” he said to pull himself out of his thoughts. “Are you ready?” he asked, speaking directly to Calum.

              “Think so,” Calum said.

              Ashton put his hand out: _Go ahead._

              Calum stood from his chair and went to the speaker’s area.

              _Deep breath in…breathe out. Summarize our points, but incorporate theirs in your rebuttal as well. Remember your facts—you cannot get them wrong. Focus. He’s watching you. And his feet are—shut up. That’s obvious. He wouldn’t be facing away. Just go._

              The curtain came down over him. Luke’s heart started racing.

              “Video games present, to all players, a unique creative challenge that can benefit players in multiple ways. First-person shooter games contribute to increased hand-eye coordination and vision. For example, one study showed that the game Call of Duty—” he put his hand out toward Dallon, “—increased players’ contrast sensitivity function, or the ability to discern subtle changes in the brightness of an image. This is one of the key functions used by our brains when driving at night, and it is considered to be one of the fastest functions to decrease with age. Therefore, playing video games may help slow that process, and could in turn save lives.”

              He paused for just a moment to look at Luke. He looked happy. Thank goodness.

              “Some believe that video games are a cause of mental illness, like depression. However, such strategy games as were previously mentioned both aid in multitasking and planning, but also provide feelings of pride and accomplishment for their players. When playing video games, we gain optimism for our abilities to engage in presented problems, find a solution, and continue to get better as we move along, encountering and solving increasingly difficult situations. Video games light up the center of our brains that acts as the rewards pathway system—including the nucleus accumbens and the prefrontal cortex.” (Was that right? It sounded right. _Keep going._ ) “This contributes to motivation to complete tasks, and development of goal-oriented behavior. In society, this is how most successful people rise to their positions—like a professor becoming department chair.” Ashton and Luke both smiled. “The hippocampus—the center of the brain that controls learning and memory—also comes into play.” ( _Don’t laugh_. _Terrible pun_.) “Like sports—a game of football, consider—some of the problems and tasks must be faced using a team of other gamers, thus teaching teamwork and cooperation skills. And because of the fact that the gaming network is so widespread, players can share these feelings, techniques, and experiences with many others, and use them continually throughout the game. This is another quality that greatly affects the lives of people in society—it is one of the main skill sets employers look for during interviews.”

              He took a huge breath. “ _These_ are the reasons why video games are beneficial to players not only in themselves, but in the wider society.”

              He nodded. He sat back down. Luke was grinning ear to ear. Calum’s heart swelled. Luke really was proud of him. Who was he kidding? He was proud of himself. And all because Luke had decided to help him and it had turned somehow into this. And even though he hadn’t done everything he wanted to with his rebuttal, he still felt that same rush he’d gotten the first day he talked to Luke in his office. He still wasn’t sure whether it was because of the debate or because of Luke himself.

              _Yes, you are sure. You’re just not admitting it to yourself._

_Admitting what?_

_Admitting that you have f—_

_No. Don’t even say it. I can’t handle that right now. Good-fucking-bye._

              The voice fell back. Calum locked it away in its cage in the darkest recesses of his mind. He folded his hands in his lap and waited for this whole thing to end.

              But Luke wanted to run over and pummel Calum in a hug. _That was fantastic,_ he thought. _Wow. That…that was great. How does he know all that?_ He looked over at Michael. Michael was looking across the way at Calum, leaning easily back in his chair. He was nodding a bit, seemingly surprised that Calum had come out with that. Luke wasn’t surprised, but he was always amazed. Then Michael gazed sideways, and gave Ashton a look: _My turn_. Luke turned to see Ashton barely nod, the left side of his mouth curling up, just noticeably.

              Oh boy.

              Michael stood, sauntering over to speak. Luke wondered if he knew how effortless he made everything look, if he tried to make it look like that. Probably not. To Luke, Michael seemed like the kind of guy to whom everything came easily. Or, ha ha, to whom Ashton c— _Oh, fuck off, Hemmings. Don’t even make that joke._ But it wasn’t a joke. Ashton had what Luke wanted, just in a different person. And Michael also had what Luke wanted—confidence to be with someone who he knew he shouldn’t be with.

              “Exposure to video games, one form of mass media, presents an opportunity for socialization—a person’s experiences and interactions with society that influence their later learning and behavior—because it introduces players to possible ways to think and act. The average child or teenager aged eight to eighteen spends seven hours in front of some form of media each day—often video games, either on a computer, a gaming system, or a smartphone. While some physical benefits could arise—coordination, vision—other physical _problems_ can arise, as my colleague has previously explained.” He put his hand out toward Haley, without looking at her.

              _Crap_ , Calum thought. He’d forgotten to rebut that point.

              “In addition, as has been stated, these gamers continue to spend the vast majority of their time inside, most often alone. While a network as large as the gaming network may be beneficial in its own ways, far more studies have proven that face-to-face interaction is more beneficial, particularly when applying learned socialization to everyday encounters. Consider that job interview: interaction between a potential employer and a potential employee expects far different modes of behavior than interaction between two gamers.

              “One of the most obvious downsides to video games, however, is players’ exposure to violence.”

              Calum let his head drop a little. They hadn’t even addressed that. Michael had just pulled it out of plain sight. _Here we go…_

              “The University of Michigan Health System concluded in a 2010 study that a substantial portion of children’s programming includes violence, with the highest incidence found in in film, music videos, and yes, video games. Their content analysis of media violence reveals that violence is often glamorized and is disproportionately aimed at women and minorities. This type of violence is taught to players and clearly translates poorly to society, where such parties are already discriminated against each day. In addition, such violence as is portrayed often goes unpunished—is sometimes even rewarded—and is depicted _with_ humor and _without_ the actual human suffering and loss that truly results. In games like Call of Duty and Grand Theft Auto and so many more, violence is presented as an appropriate method for addressing problems and achieving goals. What happens when our eight year old sons grow up believing that hitting a woman and then shooting another man twelve times gives you points?” He shook his head. “Viewing violence like that in video games can have two equally terrible effects on children. The University of Michigan and Harvard Pediatric conclude that over two thousand research studies reveal a clear association between viewing violence and exhibiting aggressive behavior or thoughts, and a desensitization to real-life violence in society. However, they also conclude that viewing violence is associated with nightmares and the intense fear of becoming a victim. Lack of intimate socialization can easily lead to depression and other mental illness.” Michael looked down at his piece of paper, blinking slowly. “As a person who played a lot of video games in the past, I can attest to these facts.” He took a deep breath and looked back up, staring holes into the far wall of the room. “Yes, some video games may help with planning and interactive motion skills and strategy but the fact is that players are not simply _watching_ this violence take place but are actively _strategizing_ —” his inflection changed and Dallon sank into his seat, “—and engaging in the violent acts, albeit through a screen with characters who are part of a virtual reality.” He paused. “The issues still remain—violence, isolation, illness both physical and mental. And they translate to society in ways that are both terrible and at times irreversible, taking into account other factors of the person’s life. Consider Tyrone Spellman, who beat his young daughter to death when she accidentally pulled one of his gaming cords from the wall, shutting it down. Or consider Shawn Woolley, who committed suicide in the fall of 2001 after becoming obsessed with an RPG. His mother attributed his death to lack of socialization and any sense of reality.” He paused one final time. “Yes, video games may have some positive effects. But the negative effects vastly outweigh any other aspect of this form of media. Players are affected, the wider society is affected…all negatively. _These_ ,” he said, using Calum’s previous inflection from his closing statement, “compose the detrimental side of video games, both to the individual and the masses.”

              He returned to his seat.

              Nobody said anything for a moment.

              _Holy. Fuck,_ Luke thought. This guy was incredible. Where did he get all that information? He used studies, he used statistics, he used sociology and psychology and emotion and personal experience… And he was a sophomore? What the hell just happened? This couldn’t be all Ashton’s teaching. No way.

              Luke looked over at Ashton. Ashton looked like he could drown in the feelings he had for Michael—pride, admiration, adoration, maybe even love. Luke looked over at Calum. Calum’s eyes were wide. His mouth was open a little. This was certainly his first experience hearing someone debate that well, since Luke was just speaking from the top of his head when they were in the office. _But he’s far better than me when I was a sophomore_ , Luke thought. In fact, he might even be better than Ashton was back then. Just…holy shit.

              “Did we win?” Elle said quietly.

              Ashton grinned, looking at Michael who only stared softly back. “We aren’t discerning winners today. It’s just practice.”

              Mr. Chwe came up behind them. “The period ended three minutes ago, Ashton,” he said, breaking whatever spell had fallen over the group.

              Ashton turned to face him. “Oh. Thank you. I’ll dismiss them. How did it go?”

              Mr. Chwe shrugged. “Table eight was all right. Four was good. Brendan from your class did a good job, Luke.”

              Luke nodded. “That’s good. He is doing well.”

              “Thanks, Vernon,” Ashton said. “And thanks for helping us out. You and the others can head on out.”

              “Finally,” Vernon joked.

              “Yeah see ya.” Ashton rolled his eyes and laughed. He turned to Luke, starting to ask if he wanted to dismiss his class, but Luke was watching Calum. Ashton nodded to himself and turned back around to face the room.

              “Hey, everybody! Good job today. We’ll be getting feedback from the other instructors and then we’ll give you all little reports in class, okay? But again, today was more for your benefit. You all get As. Both classes dismissed.”

              Chairs screeched and feet pattered and voices spoke as all the students left the room. Calum stood and went to Luke. Michael went to Ashton.

              “That…I didn’t do very well,” Calum said, crossing his arms.

              Luke gave him a look. “Are you kidding me? I mean…I don’t even know how you know so much about the brain and all that stuff. Your argument was great.”

              “But I wasn’t supposed to be arguing. I was supposed to be rebutting and I only halfway did that because I missed the girl’s points about health issues since I didn’t know how to contradict them. Everyone’s points were all over the place and I did a horrible job both of tying ours together and of including Michael’s team’s in my rebuttal.”

              Luke couldn’t really argue. That was the one thing he would have told Calum he could fix—talk about the other teams points. But…Calum’s points were _so_ good. And this was the first time he’d ever done real rebuttal so… “I don’t think you should worry about it. The fact that you can identify what didn’t go quite right is really intelligent of you and I think you’ll do just fine next time.”

              Calum looked at the ground. “I don’t think I like group debate. Definitely not doing that in Feldmann.”

              Luke swallowed. “Oh. Well, that’s okay. I never did either. Although we might do one or two more in our own class. Sorry.”

              Calum shrugged.

              “But did you enjoy it?”

              Calum thought for a moment. “Yeah, actually. I mean, I didn’t enjoy losing so badly but I liked being up there and I liked listening to Michael. He’s…wow.”

              Luke nodded. “Yeah. I had no idea. Hit us right out of left field. Well…I’m glad you liked it.” He was. And he also hoped Calum would choose to go to Feldmann now. “So…you don’t want to do a group, but what do you think about individual, though?”

              Michael and Ashton came over to them, interrupting.

              “Forget no winners. I believe that’s what we call a strike—a conspicuous success,” Ashton said, holding up his fingers.

              Luke scoffed, even though he knew it was completely true, not because of Calum but because Michael was just that good. “I don’t think so. Did you hear our rebuttal?”

              “Did you hear ours?”

              They kept talking. Michael turned to Calum, giving him a soft, genuine smile. “I promise I’m not like that all the time. I tend to drop a few degrees before any type of debate or speech.”

              But Michael still looked just as cool as he did before. That was just who he was, Calum supposed. Constant confidence. “Oh.”

              “You did a good job. I liked the psychological side.”

              Calum almost fell over. Michael was so much better at this than him and he’d just said he’d done a good job. He felt almost as good as when Luke praised him. “Yeah? Thanks. I seem to gravitate towards that. You were great too. I don’t know where you got all those, like, facts and examples. Did you make them up?”

              Michael only shook his head. He leaned in as if he were telling Calum a secret. “I play a lot of video games.”

              Calum tilted his head. “I thought you didn’t like them. You said you used to and it…” His eyes widened.

              “It’s a debate, Calum,” Michael said, and left it at that, his other smile returning.

              But Calum didn’t need him to say more. _It’s a debate. You’re supposed to get people to believe_ you _._ _You’re supposed to win._

              “That’s one thing about Michael’s debating style,” Ashton broke in. “The statistics, I mean. If he knows the topic, he _knows_ the topic. He can spew stats and interviews and articles and all of this stuff and I don’t know where it comes from but…” He looked at Michael. Michael’s smile changed once again, brightening his eyes. Calum had a moment to think what a manipulator he could be. But…in a good way.

              “A strong fact base is important,” Ashton concluded, quietly.

              “But so is emotion,” Luke said.

              Ashton nodded. “You did very well, Calum. Your potential is,” he clicked his tongue and put his hand up by his head. “Have you taken many psychology courses?”

              “Just the intro course. But I read some stuff on the side once in a while. It’s interesting.” He shrugged.

              Ashton raised his eyebrows, impressed. Luke gave him a look that said, _I know. Believe me, I know. He’s incredible._

              “That’s what makes your arguments so good,” Luke said. “I mean, both of you are really fantastic. I hope that we’ll get to see you both in Feldmann. Maybe even the finale.”

              They started walking out, heading down the steps of the hall.

              “I think I’m going to do it,” Calum said at once. “Individual, I mean.”

              Oh no. Now he had to do it. He couldn’t just back out. Why had he decided already? That was a rash decision. He was happy because he’d done a good job and he felt good that Michael had said he’d done well because Michael was obviously on a way higher level than he was and Luke was giving him all these compliments because… _And…oh. Now look at his face. Now look at his eyes. Look what you’ve done._

              Luke lit up immediately, starbright. “Really? That’s great! I’m so glad.” He started to put his arms out but then drew them back, clasping his hands in front of him.

              “Now Michael will have some real competition, huh?” Ashton said.

              Michael shrugged, giving Calum a friendly look. “Maybe. Hey, I’m going to head to my next class.”

              Ashton tried to hold back his disappointment, but Luke could see it on his face. He really did like this guy. “Early?”

              “I think there’s something you have to talk about?” Michael gave Ashton a soft smile, tilting his head slightly in Luke’s direction.

              Okay, Luke thought. So here was one way Ash and Michael fit so well together: both of them were extremely observant and were usually right about what was going on that wasn’t being said. Yes, Ashton did have something to talk about. But that meant Luke couldn’t talk to Calum today. At least not now.

              “Okay. Bye Michael. See you t—” Ashton’s words caught and he chose a different one, “—later.”

              Michael nodded, signaled goodbye to Luke and Calum, and went.

              “I guess we do have something to talk about,” Ashton said, turning back to Luke.

              “Yeah...” He glanced over at Calum. “Do you think maybe—” He was about to ask if he could actually talk later because Calum but then Calum’s phone dinged and he pulled it out of his pocket.

              Calum swiped open his phone. He read the message from Peter:

 

              “Found him. Swing by. I want to talk to you.”

 

              Awesome. Peter had done what Calum had hoped he could earlier, speeding up his research process just that much. He replied:

 

              “Thanks, I will. Give me 20 minutes.”

 

              “I actually have to go, too,” Calum said. “My friend says he wants to talk to me in person so…” He looked at Luke, feeling bad but knowing that what Peter had found would probably help with his and Luke’s relationship.

              Relationship? Whatever that meant. He glanced at Luke’s feet again. Yep. Did that really mean anything?

              Luke sighed internally in relief. He didn’t have to choose. “Oh. Okay. I’ll see you Thursday then? Great job today. And I’m really happy you want to do Feldmann. We’ll keep working together, yes?”

              “Of course,” Calum said, grinning. “Did we have an assignment for Thursday?”

              Luke shook his head. “Nope. Just need something else to talk about.”

              “I’ll think on that.”

              “Me too.”

              “Okay. Bye, Luke.”

              “Bye, Calum.”

              They wanted to hug again, and they both knew it. But Ashton was there, and they were outside where other people might see them. So Luke put his hand up a little, waving. Calum returned it, then walked away.

              He looked back after a second and saw that Luke’s feet were not directly pointed at Ashton as they were talking. _Jesus. Get over yourself. He’s not subconsciously, constantly thinking of you. Right?_ He kept walking.

              After a moment, Ashton said to Luke, “I can see why you want to talk. You really do like him, don’t you? He’s sweet.”

              “Yeah. He is. Can we…go somewhere more private?”

              “How about by the lake? That little outcropping?”

 

They were on the bench on the tiny peninsula, a few hundred meters out into the lake. The water rippled faintly around them, glinting in the sun.

              “So,” Luke said. “Time to talk. I can’t believe I didn’t notice before.”

              “You didn’t know _him_ before.”

              “That’s true. You wanna just say it?”

              Ashton smiled shyly and blushed. “I’m with Michael. Together. You know.”

              Luke nodded and waited to meet Ashton’s grin with his own. “How long?”

              “Four and a half months now.”

              Luke raised his eyebrows. “How’s that?”

              “He was in my summer B intro class.”

              Luke chuckled. “Ashton. I didn’t know you were into guys.”

              “Neither did I,” Ashton said. “But Mikey just came to me a week or two before the summer semester ended. He was so good in my class, such an intelligent guy and I knew he was going somewhere, has a lot of big things ahead of him, and…” He laughed. “Well, I guess that’s all there is to say.”

              Luke liked that Ashton had called him Mikey. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

              “It’s not you. I haven’t told a single soul. For clear reasons.”

              Luke nodded. He could understand that, certainly. “Do you ever feel guilty about it? I mean, it’s completely against the rules…and maybe the law. The line is blurry.”

              Ashton shrugged. “Everyone’s bad at some point, Luke. The ones we think are good just haven’t been caught yet. But I still don’t flaunt it, surely.”

              Luke half-smiled. There was one question he desperately wanted to ask but he wasn’t sure if it was appropriate or not. “Um…what’s it…?” He couldn’t say it.

              “It’s wonderful,” Ashton said quietly, reading his mind. “I can’t tell you what the bit of, like, mystery and drama adds to everything, but the weight of doing something against the rules is seriously alluring.”

              Luke nodded quickly. “And uh…how’s Michael?” God, why had he said that?

              Ashton smiled wryly. “You want to know the details, Hemmings?”

              Luke flushed a furious red. He was just trying to get an idea of what Calum might be like, but he was getting all turned around. “No! No. I’m overstepping.”

              “I—” Another phone, interrupting every important conversation Luke seemed to have. Ashton read the email. “Ugh. I have another meeting.”

              Luke was annoyed, but only at the timing of it all. Ashton was becoming really important to the university, and Luke was endlessly proud of him. He’d definitely be a full-fledged professor next year after he finished his thesis, and then it was only up from there. “Working your way up to chair is, well, work, isn’t it?”

              Ashton shook his head. “You don’t know the half of it. And it’s _still_ going to be another few years at the least.”

              “You’ll get there.”

              Ashton nodded. “Hell yes, I will.” He stood, looking out at the water, thinking for a minute. Luke looked down at his hands, picking his nails again. He needed to talk to Ashton more, but he knew this was important. His problem could wait for another hour or two when he could call Ashton.

              And suddenly Ashton turned around. “And, by the way…he wouldn’t tell you himself, but Mikey likes to take top.”

              Luke’s mouth dropped open. He lowered his head, his whole body burning with embarrassment, trying to hide himself. And yet, he was…excited? Happy? Something.

              “Go talk to him about it, Luke,” Ashton told him. “Words are your thing.”

              _Not with him,_ Luke thought, but nodded.

              “And, even if you’re not sure what he’s feeling, maybe he’ll tell you. You’d be surprised what goes on in other people’s heads.”

              Nodded again, staring out across the lake. “Okay. Can I call you later?”

              “You can stop by later.”

              Luke smiled. “I will.”

              “See you then. _Talk_.”

              Okay. He would. Maybe.

 

…

 

Calum arrived at Peter’s dorm fifteen minutes later. They were on Peter’s bed, sitting cross-legged in front of each other, Peter’s phone in his hand.

              “So? You found him?” Calum asked.

              Peter nodded. “Yep. Ashton Irwin. He’s a speech and debate teacher here—found him on the university website under staff—but also a graduate student. I can tell because he—well, I think he lives in graduate housing. See this picture?” He swiped his finger and turned the phone around. Ashton was standing in front of a three story building with another well-dressed, heavyset girl wearing lots of bracelets on her right wrist. “I mean, that’s Park Hall, which is one of the grad housing developments. And he captioned it ‘neighbors.’ Believe it or not, she’s my International Relations TA, and I know she’s a grad student. So, it all just fits.”

              Wow. That was way more than Calum expected. He could find Ashton so easily now.

              “Yeah, he’s a grad student. My—someone told me. Wow. Thanks Peter. That’s…this only took you like a half hour?”

              “Actually, I just got your text like twenty minutes ago. Then I found him, then texted you. So.”

              Calum laughed. “Well okay then. Thank you.”

              “Sure,” Peter said. “I’m assuming this is the guy who can help you with your thing?”

              Calum realized he hadn’t even told Peter why he wanted him too look up Ashton. “Oh, yes. He’s…friends with…” He realized what it looked like now. Exactly what it was. “Peter…”

              Peter clicked through his phone again. “I found this guy too. The one you were talking to in the stands? The one you said you were having the thing with or for or whatever.” He turned the screen around again. Yeah. That was Luke. “He’s a teacher too, right? It says he teaches debate, too.”

              Calum sighed and looked at his hands. “Oh, God…”

              Peter put his phone away. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

              Calum laughed humorlessly. “Why? That’s pretty obvious.”

              “Cal.”

              Calum looked back up. Peter’s face was clear and kind. Completely unjudging.

              “Listen,” he said. “Do you really feel that way about him?”

              Calum felt himself shrinking. The feelings he had been repressing since their first hug were resurfacing. He knew they had to at some point, but he didn’t want to deal with it yet. It was too much. But he had to.

              He put his elbows on his knees and let his head fall into his hands. “I don’t know.”

              “Look at me for a second.”

              Calum did.

              Peter nodded. “Yeah. You do.”

              Calum shook his head. “How do you know?”

              “I’ve seen that look plenty of times before. In the mirror—before I finally asked Olivia out, when we were together, when I moved here and now when I think about her, etcetera. I know that look.”

              Calum half-smiled. “Oh. I mean…” He sighed. “I don’t know how to decipher my own feelings.”

              “That’s okay.”

              “It’s not, though. I wish I could. Then I wouldn’t feel so conflicted all the time and I would be able to understand that I actually _do_ like Luke a lot and—”

              Peter put his hands out to the sides: _See?_

              “What do you think?” Calum asked quietly. “Don’t you think it’s inappropriate and against the rules and that I shouldn’t even be thinking about it in the first place?”

              Peter shrugged. “I guess it’s against the rules but fuck the rules. You obviously care about him. I don’t think you should let some institutionalized systematic bullshit get in your way. I’m sick of the system!” He laughed and Calum couldn’t help but giggle at him. “Just kidding. But also not kidding. Seriously. I’m not judging you at all. I think it’s going to be hard to maneuver this whole thing and I think you need to be careful with who finds out—or doesn’t—but I think you’ll be just fine. I like his name, too. Luke. That’s a kind name.”

              “My sister said that.” Calum rubbed his eyes. “Okay. Okay. I…like Luke. A lot. He’s my teacher. I’m his student. A relationship like that is against the rules but—oh! I didn’t tell you. Ashton Irwin is with one of his students.”

              “ _With_ with?”

              “I’m pretty damn sure. You should see the way they look at each other.”

              “That’s the look.”

              “Oh…”

              “But, hey. That’s interesting, right? They’re…I mean, they’re you. You and Luke. What a coincidence.”

              “Yeah. And they look like they’re so happy together. I don’t know how I can tell, but Ashton looks at Michael—that’s his name—like he’s the brightest, bluest star in the sky.”

              “Does Luke look at you like that?”

              “Wh—” He thought back through the weeks, the office meetings, the classes. _Did_ Luke look at him like that? “I’m not sure,” he said.

              “He probably does, just when you’re turned away.”

              “Oh, come on.”

              “I’m serious. Is he up front and confident or is he more reserved and shy?”

              Oh yeah. Right. “Definitely shy. Awkward.”

              “Then do you think he’d let you see him looking at you like that?”

              Calum remembered not an hour ago when he had caught Luke staring at him and Luke had looked away quickly. “Oh. Shit.”

              Peter nodded again. “Mhm.”

              “Oh my God. What have I gotten myself into?”

              “I could say something really cheesy right now but I’m just going to say that it’s something I don’t think you’ve had before. Is that right?”

              “Probably.”

              “I think you should go for it. Just…talk to him. If I’m right, he feels the same way about you, too.”

              Calum nodded.

              “Besides. I’ve never understood the rule anyway. You’re just adults. Just people. You should be allowed to be together.” Peter smiled.

              Calum smiled back. “Thanks Peter. For not judging me.” He started to stand up off the bed.

              “He’s pretty good-looking too. I can see that he’s awkward in his face but…nice scruff.”

              Calum looked sideways at him. “Yeah? What was that?”

              “I’ll see you tomorrow, Cal.” He picked up his phone.

              Calum smiled. “Bye, Peter.”

 

…

 

Luke kept thinking about what Ashton had said about Michael, right at the end of their conversation. _He wouldn’t tell you himself, but…_ It almost felt like an intrusion of privacy, but the image stuck in his mind and he couldn’t get it out: Ashton on his stomach with Michael on top of him; Ashton’s arms splayed out beside his head and Michael’s palms covering the backs of his hands, their fingers dovetailed together; Michael moving, slow and forceful, the muscles in his back writhing; Ashton turning his head to the side, his mouth hanging open and his hair spilling over his face…

              Luke kept thinking about it because he was trying to turn the image into him and Calum. But instead all he kept seeing was something similar but entirely different at the same time: Calum on his back and himself kneeling over him, knees and hands on either side of Calum’s body. Calum would stare up at Luke until Luke would grin and ask what he was looking at. Then Calum would bring his hands up and dance his fingers along Luke’s chest. They would both giggle and Calum would grasp Luke’s face and pull him down to kiss him.

              Luke wanted to be in _both_ of those situations. Maybe he would ask Ashton how he and Michael interacted regularly, see how different it was from the way he was with Calum and vice versa. He thought he already knew, though—Ashton and Michael were both such confident people and Luke and Calum were not. Of course it would be different. Still, Luke was itching to keep talking to Ashton.

              He was still on the bench over the lake. He looked at his watch. Half an hour had gone by with him just sitting there, thinking. Wow. Well…maybe Ashton was done with his meeting now. He got up, walked to the closest bus stop, and made his way to Ashton’s apartment in Park Hall.

 

Ashton opened the door.

              “Oh good, I’m not early,” Luke said, stepping inside.

              “I just got here like two minutes ago. I was expecting you tonight. After you _talked_ to him.”

              “Yeah, well.”

              “You’re just so eager to see me, then?

              “Because I don’t know what to do.” He flopped down on Ashton’s couch and looked up at him. “I don’t know if I should talk to him or—”

              “You definitely should.” Ashton sat next to Luke. They swiveled to face each other.

              “Okay but…do I tell him how I feel? Or do I ask him how he feels? I have no idea if he feels anything for me at all. I can’t tell by his body language or what he says to me. I just…have no clue.”

              “That’s why you talk.”

              Luke groaned. “What…how was it with you and Michael? Did you know? What did you say to him, like, to make him want to be with you?”

              Ashton put his hands up: _Too many questions!_ He laughed, a bubbling sound like champagne sparkles. It was one Luke only heard a few times before, when Ashton was truly amused or truly happy. It was the laugh he’d had on the night he won champion at their senior debate. “It wasn’t me, Luke. It was Michael. It was all Michael.”

              Luke tilted his head. “Really? What do you mean?”

              Ashton shrugged, his nose crinkling with his huge grin. “I mean…he came to me. One day he just kind of suggested it. I guess it wasn’t particularly romantic—we didn’t have that movie scene moment where we look into each other’s eyes and then come together in a sudden heated embrace.” He giggled again. “He just asked. Well, no, he didn’t ask. He _told_ me. In my office one day. I think he said, ‘Mr. Irwin, back up for a moment,’ and as confused as I was, I did. And I backed all the way into the wall—that’s kind of movie, isn’t it?—and then he put his hand out, almost didactically, and said, ‘I’m coming to kiss you.’ And he walked to me and put his hands by my shoulders and he did. It just kind of went from there.”

              Luke didn’t know what to say. “Wow…” He didn’t understand how someone could be so confident as to simply tell someone they were going to kiss them and then not expect the other person to object or freak out. He wished he could be that confident. Would it be wrong if he were the one to initiate this thing? Maybe it should be Calum. Like the hug. Less against the rules if it’s not the teacher starting it…right? But _would_ Calum start it? Did Calum even feel that way at all?

              Luke turned his attention back to Ashton. “Well, I think that’s pretty romantic.”

              Ashton tilted his head. “Yeah? I don’t think romantic is quite the right word for it but it did amaze me so much that I couldn’t help but…” The sentence finished itself. “Don’t get me wrong, though—I don’t slander Michael’s name. I never could. He would deny it but he can be very romantic—in my sense of the word. He sings to me, he cooks for me.” Ashton’s face became more serious and he looked as though he was far away for a moment. He spoke softly. “He says the most incredible things to me. _Close your eyes and I’ll make you melt. Let’s forget who we are and dive into the dark. Your eyes, your smile can light up the night. I want to feel you in my veins._ He could be a poet or a lyricist. Well, he does write songs… Once when we were driving back here he asked me to take the long way and he kissed me at every stop sign. I remember “Wake Me Up When September Ends” had been playing on the radio. He’s so good to me…he’s more than I deserve.”

              Luke stared at Ashton, watching him think back on his time with Michael, this other student who Luke had just met today but who had been affecting a huge part of his life for months. Ashton’s eyes glistened; a smile had crept lightly onto his lips. Finally, Ashton blinked and looked back at Luke. He smiled shyly and looked down at his fingers. “Yeah.”

              Luke still didn’t know what to say. “Ashton, that’s…I hope I can be as happy as you one day.”

              “You will be. If you only just talk to him. I’m sure something good will come of it.”

              And Luke suddenly thought out loud: “I wonder if Calum would be like that.”

              “Like what?”

              Luke blushed. “Like…you know.” He had been thinking about the _thing_ with Ashton and Michael again, but he certainly wouldn’t tell Ashton that. “Um…I mean that Michael is so confident to do something like that—how he started your relationship—and I wonder if Calum would be the same way.”

              Ashton nodded. “Maybe he would be like that. But the problem is that maybe it will take another month or two and I’m not sure you can survive that long.”

              Luke sighed and looked down.

              “See, the thing about Michael,” Ashton said, “is that when we first met and we first got together, he actually _did_ seem shy on the exterior. But inside, he’s crazy. Once I got a little taste of him, I—anyway. Calum seems pretty quiet. I don’t know if, relationship wise, he’s more like Michael or more like _you_. Maybe he’s actually super confident and ready to go on the inside, but maybe he really is just quiet and calm. That’s something you’ll have to figure out for yourself.”

              Luke nodded. “I know.” Apparently, to Luke’s mind, Calum seemed like the kind of guy who would want to just talk and, if they were together, kiss and cuddle and laze around. But he didn’t know. He wouldn’t know unless he could convince himself that this was okay to feel and then get up the courage to do something about it. Knowing Ashton was in the same situation and things had worked out for him was nice. It gave Luke some semblance of hope. “I know. We need to talk.”

              “What a good bit of advice.”

              Luke rolled his eyes. “I just don’t know what to say, that’s all.”

              Ashton thought. “Say, ‘Hey Calum. I like you. More than I probably should. What do you think about that?’ ”

              Luke laughed. “That’s pretty blunt.”

              “Well, you asked.” He smiled.

              “Can we just switch bodies on Thursday?”

              “Oh, Luke. Be a big boy. You can do it.”

            Luke nodded. “I’ll…try.”


	10. En Fuego

But he didn’t try.

            On Thursday, neither of them had come up with something to talk about, because both of them had had their mind on the other, unbeknownst _to_ the other. Luke knew that meant it was the perfect time for him to talk to Calum about how he was feeling. But he could sense Ashton kicking him when he decided he still couldn’t do it.

            So they went over Calum’s rebuttal on Tuesday, talking about what was done well and what could have been done better. They also talked about Michael and all the different techniques he had used. But they didn’t talk about Michael and Ashton, because both of them felt—though they wouldn’t say it out loud—that if they brought that up it would feel too much like _them_ to be comfortable anymore. Not that it was comfortable in the first place.

            No, on Thursday, things had gone back—gotten awkward again. Calum would hardly look Luke in the eyes and Luke didn’t know why. Maybe Calum _had_ realized how Luke felt about him. Maybe he wanted to get away from it because it made him uncomfortable because he didn’t feel that way about Luke at all. And Luke could not ask. He just couldn’t.

            The pendulum they were swinging on had made it back here, and now something had to have enough gravity to pull it back to the other end again. Luke only wished that it would just come to rest in the middle.

            At the end of the half hour, Luke asked if Calum still felt like he wanted to do Feldmann. Calum had paused, thinking a little, and had eventually said that yes, he did. Luke had audibly sighed in relief. They told each other goodbye, see you Tuesday. And they did hug, but it was brief and lacked the magnetism that usually held them together.

            Luke cried twice over the weekend, but once he was smashed drunk and he had called Ashton to come be with him and then he had just started bawling. He almost shattered the frosted blue PRS Mira that hung on his wall, but Ashton, thank God, had pulled it out of his hands before he could do it. He had vomited and collapsed. Ashton had lain him down on his side on the couch, cleaned up the mess, and sat with him. Michael had called at eleven at night, and Ashton told him he was sorry but he couldn’t come see him that night because of Luke. Michael had said okay, and that he hoped Luke would be okay too.

            Calum’s heart was heavy, but he pushed it away like he always did. He didn’t know what to do about Luke. He knew what he was feeling wasn’t okay, despite how kind Peter had been about the whole thing. He couldn’t get his feelings under control, so he told himself to just wait. Maybe Luke would say something. Maybe Luke was feeling this way too. The connection they’d had over the past few weeks was immediate and so strong. Luke had made Calum realize how capable he really was in his academics, and Calum appreciated him so much for it. And Calum had developed…something for him. But he couldn’t say it for some reason. Maybe Luke would. So he would wait.

 

…

 

At 9:40 Monday morning, Luke reached up into the cabinet above his refrigerator to get something a little stronger to put in his coffee. It was empty. There was a sticky-note inside the door:

 

SORRY HEMMINGS. TALK TO HIM.

ASH

 

            Dammit. Well, it was for his own good. He didn’t need another night like… Jesus, was that just last night? He remembered pulling out a whole bottle of Captain and drinking…how many glasses? Enough to make the pathways in his mind shift around constantly like those stairs in _Harry Potter_. And he’d called Ashton. And he’d cried. Oh God. And had he almost…? He glanced over at his guitar. Looked fine. Maybe that was just some drunken hallucination…

            After that he couldn’t remember anything. Obviously Ashton had removed all other substances from the cabinet. They were probably just somewhere else in his apartment, but he knew he shouldn’t go looking.

            His phone was vibrating somewhere. He palmed his pocket. Nope. He turned around too fast for his aching head to handle, and he put his hand on the counter for just a second, steadying himself.

            “Fuck…” He put his cup down and went into the common.

            Not on the coffee table. Not on the mantle by the TV. Not on the floor. In the fucking couch. He shoved his hand between the cushions and yanked his phone out. Of course it was Ashton. Probably calling to yell at him for last night. He answered.

            “Yeah, Ash?”

            “Hey, Luke.” He sounded utterly flat.

            Luke’s brow furrowed. “What is it?”

            “Oh…Mikey managed to burn himself this morning.”

            “ _What_?”

            “He has this cooking class that he takes. He’s amazing. He tried to do a flambé.”

            “Impressive…”

            “I know,” Ashton said, and Luke could feel the sad smile on his face through the phone. It fell away: “Well…if it had worked out. Anyway, I don’t know exactly what’s happening. He just texted me once really quick right after it happened. I called the clinic, saying he was missing my class—my weak excuse to call for him. At least they didn’t question it. But they say the left side of his face is red and irritated but it’s barely first degree. It’ll just sting for a while…”

            Luke didn’t know what to say. “Wow…I guess…you can’t go see him, then.”

            Ashton coughed; it sounded a little like he choked. He sniffed and said, “I didn’t think I could. And I’d already lied and said I had class then. What would it look like if a teacher came to personally see a student who wasn’t even hurt that bad?” He sighed.

            “I suppose you’re right,” Luke said. “Did they say when he’d be better?”

            Ashton didn’t answer for a moment. “I should have seen him last n—” He seemed to reconsider.

            Luke put his hand to his face. Oh… Now he felt awful. “No. You should have been with him. Blame me. Really. I’m sorry.”

            “No, that’s ridiculous. It’s not like he’s dead.”

            “Still. I was…just being an idiot.”

            “No. It’s fine.”

            “Thank you for being there for me,” Luke said softly.

            Ashton sniffed again. “You’re my best friend. I’ve known you for nearly a decade.”

            “Three years away isn’t nearly,” Luke said, smiling sadly.

            “Do you remember our senior debate?”

            “Like it was yesterday.”

            “Well, that was three years ago.”

            “Oh…wow. Just…thank you.”

            “It’s okay, Luke. He should be out…about now actually. I just—I felt so bad. I wasn’t there for him when it happened. I should have been there this morning.”

            “Ashton, I’m sure he’ll understand.”

            “I know he will. Still…”

            “It’s better that you didn’t go than if you did and you guys were found out.”

            “I know I know.”

            “I doubt he’ll go to his other classes today. You should get off the phone with me and call _him_.”

            “Yeah. Okay. I will. I’ll see if I can get him from anywhere.”

            “He’ll be okay, Ash.”

            Luke could feel Ashton nodding on the other end. And Ashton said, “I’ll see you later.”

            “Bye, Ash.”

            Luke hung up his phone, shaking his head. What an ass he was. He couldn’t believe Ashton was always so nice to him. This was why Ashton was his only real friend. Except for…

            Well, maybe not. Who knows.

 

…

 

Calum woke around 9 o’clock to the sound of a siren going past his dorm hall.

            He jolted, sitting up and glancing over to his roommate’s bed. Empty once again. Oh yeah, he had early courses today. Good. Calum had work to do. His feelings were out the window for the time being. Because now he had a mission.

            Calum got up, showered, and forgot to eat. He sat on his bed with his laptop. And he did his own research, using what Peter had already given him. He knew he was going to Park Hall—graduate housing—to see Ashton Irwin—obviously. He found the Hall on the map. He could bus there in under twenty minutes, including stops. But he didn’t know when to go. So he found Ashton on the university staff roster and figured out what and when his classes were. Calum already knew he taught Debate during the same times Luke did, but this was Monday. Ashton apparently had a Reasoning course, but it turned out by pure coincidence that it was at the exact same period—12:20—that Calum’s Psych and Performance class was at. Good. So now Calum just had to decide whether he wanted to go in the morning or the afternoon.

            Fact: Ashton was more likely to actually _be_ home in the morning. Opinion: Calum would greatly prefer to talk to Ashton alone. Logic: if anyone were to show up—Luke, for instance—at Ashton’s apartment during the day, it would probably be in the afternoon.

            Decision: morning. Now.

            He closed his laptop, grabbed his backpack so he could just head back into campus after they were done talking instead of coming back here, checked the time—10:00—and went out the door to catch his bus.

 

He recognized the sign for Park Hall from the background of the picture Peter had showed him. It was a series of three story buildings, but Calum remembered which one Ashton had been in front of. He went to it and then realized he had no idea which apartment was Ashton’s.

            Okay, so he would ask. Ashton seemed like the kind of guy who would get to know a ton of people, have a lot of good friends and weak-tie acquaintances. Maybe if he picked the right door by chance, the tenant would know who Ashton was and could tell him where he lived. Normally he’d be too shy to just talk to random people, but this was important.

            He randomly selected the third apartment in on the bottom floor. He knocked.

            A skinny guy with bright eyes, a young-looking face, and a floral sweatshirt opened the door. “Yes?”

            “Hi. I’m looking for Ashton Irwin? I—”

            _Have absolutely no reason_. _Think_.

            “—have a meeting with him. Student-teacher. Office is being renovated.”

            The guy nodded. “Oh, yeah. He gets students once in a while over here. One guy comes a lot. Um…he’s third floor, but I don’t know which apartment number. He didn’t tell you?”

            Uhh… “Nope. Thank you, though. I’ll figure it out.”

            “Of course. What’s your name?” He smiled at Calum.

            “Calum.” He stuck his hand out. “You?”

            “Troye.” They shook. “I like that name. Rolls right off the tongue.”

            “Are you Troye Sivan? You coordinated CommonCulture. With Connor Franta,” Calum said, referring to the university’s largest LGBTQ organization, founded four years previous.

            Troye nodded. “That’s me. Well, us.”             
            “Someone here for me?” a voice called from behind Troye.

            “No, someone’s here for Ashton.”

            The guy came up behind Troye. Connor. Calum recognized him from the website.

            “Oh. Upstairs.”

            Calum could only nod. He was sort of starstruck. “Going to the welcome session my freshman year gave me a lot of confidence with coming here when I was unsure about myself leaving home and my family. This…wow. It’s so nice to meet you.” He shook both of their hands. Connor smiled.

“You too, Calum,” Troye said. “I’m glad we could help. And if you ever want to talk more, we’ll be here.”

            Calum nodded. “Yeah. Thank you. And, for telling me where Ashton—yeah. Thanks.”

            They smiled. “Have a good day.”

            “You too.”

            He went to the stairs. Wow. That was so cool. Troye and Connor and their group were the biggest on-campus influence for Calum. He wondered if Luke ever got involved.

            He made it to the third floor. He knocked on the first door, hoping it would be Ashton. It wasn’t. It was a girl.

            “Can I—oh. Hey. What’s your name?” She put her hand on her hip.

            Not again. “Uh, I’m Calum. I’m looking for—”

            “Bonnie.” She stuck her hand out, giving him a smile with obvious intent.

            He shook. “Hi, Bonnie. I’m looking for Ashton Irwin?”

            Her smile dropped. “Oh. Ashton. I see. Why is he always getting nice young guys like you up here? Well, I shouldn’t say that; I’ve only ever seen one. Still.” Her gaze left Calum’s body and he felt much more comfortable.

            “I…don’t know,” he said, thinking of Michael and trying not to smile. “Is his apartment near here?”

            She pushed her hair back from her face and pointed down the hallway. “Seventeen, way down.”

            He nodded, itching to both get away and get to him. “Thank you.”

            “Yeah.” She turned and closed the door.

            Okay. Thanks a lot, Bonnie.

            Actually, yeah. Thanks. She obviously knew that Ashton, a teacher, was with a student. And she didn’t seem to care at all. So, in relation…good.

            He went to the door marked 317, took a deep breath—waited. Was he really doing this? It wasn’t that he was nervous about Ashton, but that he was going to ask about Luke. He didn’t even have a game plan. He wasn’t just going to say, _Hey I think I like your best friend maybe even though he’s my teacher and I want to know more about him because I’m too weak to talk to him myself_. He _needed_ a game plan; something that didn’t involve showing his feelings.

            But…this was Ashton, Luke’s best friend. Ashton would be the one to know everything single thing about Luke. Maybe he knew more about this situation than Calum did.

            Whatever. He’d just make it up as he went along. He knocked.

            He heard heavy footfalls coming toward the door. A muffled, “Hey, wait—!”

            And then Michael opened the door, lightly bandaged on the left side of his face. He gave his signature smile at Calum’s wide eyes.

            Ashton came up behind him. “Michael, you can’t just open the door. Someone might—oh! Hey, Calum. What are you doing here?”

            “Hi, Ashton. Hi, Michael. What happened?”

            Michael nodded. “Burned myself cooking, clinic, got picked up.” He tilted his head toward Ashton. “Making breakfast. Hungry?”

            Calum blinked. “Oh…uh, actually, yes. I think I forgot breakfast.”

            “Well, Mikey’s making French toast—even though I said he needs to _rest._ ” Michael only shook his head, smiling. “If you want some,” Ashton offered.

            “Uh, that would be great.”

            This was weird. It was like they knew him. And it was like they knew he knew they were together. Well, they probably did. They so clearly were. Maybe Ashton already had an idea of why Calum was here and so didn’t feel the need to hide his own situation.

            Michael sauntered back to the kitchen.

            “Come in,” Ashton said, waving his hand. “Have a seat.” He made a face and shook his head. “God. Sorry. I’m in teacher mode. Anywhere you want. Couch is the comfiest.”

            Calum went to the couch.

            “Would it be weird if I sat on the other side? It’s, like, my spot,” Ashton asked.

            Calum shook his head. “It’s your house.”

            “Just making sure. That’s where Luke always sits when he visits.” He pointed his finger at Calum.

            Calum stiffened, both because he was sitting where Luke sat and because Ashton had just brought him suddenly up. “Is it?”

            Ashton nodded. “So. I assume you want to talk about something?”

            Calum swallowed. He should be comfortable. Ashton was easy to be around and Michael was simply a ghost floating about the apartment, probably hearing everything they said and everything they didn’t say—which was unnerving but also calming, if that was possible. Calum let out a breath. His heart beat a little slower. They three-quarter faced each other.

            “Yes. I think—see, I’ve been working with Luke for a while now and…well, I’m pretty shy and not very good at talking to people I don’t know well—you can probably see that. Anyway, I feel like I want to maybe get to know Luke a little better—be closer—but I don’t know how to approach it. Approach him. About…it.”

            Ashton smiled, looking entirely at ease and entirely knowledgeable about exactly what Calum wasn’t telling him. “Sure. I’ve known Luke for—”

            Michael came in carrying a plate with three pieces of French toast drizzled with syrup and topped with banana slices. He went to Calum first, serving the guest.

            “Oh. Thank you,” Calum said. It was the best looking breakfast he’d seen in a long time. He was so used to university food even the smell was making his mouth water.

            Michael handed Calum a fork and knife.

            “Thank you.”

            “Hurry up with mine,” Ashton called as Michael went back. Michael threw a middle finger over his shoulder.

            Ashton scoffed, and turned back to smile at Calum. “Seven years,” he said. “We met here, in undergrad—freshmen. Friends right away, though Luke was very awkward about it. But our minds connected, you know?” Calum definitely knew. “Now we’re both working on our dissertations. I’m a little ahead, if I do say so.” He wiggled his shoulders.

            Calum smiled. “What’s yours on?”

            “Abstract debate structure as a medium for fluidity of ideas, facts, points. Like our classes. A breakdown of strict debate structuralism allows for further thought on the topic itself.” He shrugged. “So basically a new teaching style.”

            “Oh.” Calum raised his eyebrows. “Wow. You know, I never knew debate could be so interesting until I started with Luke, and now you just throw that out there.” He shook is head. He took a bite of the breakfast Michael had made. Holy… “This is amazing,” he said, mouth full.

            Ashton grinned. “Yeah. Mikey’s a really good cook. When he’s careful about it.” Michael came in with Ashton’s plate. “He likes it,” Ashton said.

            “Yeah?” Michael asked. Calum nodded vigorously. “Great.” He handed Ashton his plate. He glanced over at Calum, then back at Ashton: _Does he know?_

            “Yeah. It’s pretty obvious. He does,” Ashton said.

            “I what?” Calum said.

            Michael leaned over and kissed Ashton’s forehead. Calum blushed and looked at his food. “Figured,” Michael said. “I’ll clean up. Let me know when to get your dishes.”

            “You’re not going to eat?”

            Michael gave him a look.

            Ashton laughed. “Of course you’re going to eat. You’re just being polite for our guest. Thank you.”

            Calum looked between them. He felt like he had walked onstage during a professional symphony, interrupting everything. “Oh,” he said quietly.

            “Did you not know?” Ashton asked.

            Calum tilted his head. “I…sort of.”

            “Did you know since the practice?”

            Calum thought back. No, it wasn’t the practice that made him know. It was when he had seen them on Capitol Road. But he wasn’t going to tell them that. And then seeing them at the practice confirmed it. It had seemed obvious to him then, but he didn’t think it did to other people.

            He shrugged. “I mean, Michael answered the door.”

            Ashton rolled his eyes. “See?” he shouted. “This is why you can’t just open the door. Good thing it was Calum.” He looked up, waiting for a reply. None came. “He doesn’t listen sometimes,” he said to Calum.

            “And then sometimes I get punished for it,” Michael called.

            Calum blushed hard again.

            “Michael. Really?” Ashton ran his fingers through his hair. The hat was off for the time being. “Sorry. Really. But I know what you want to talk about. It’s as obvious to us as we are to you.”

            The rush of blood was apparently not going to leave Calum’s face today. “Oh. Okay.”

            Ashton took at bite of his breakfast, nodding. “I’m actually glad you came to talk to me. Things need to start rolling a little faster than they are.”

            Calum was shaking. He had no idea what to say. He didn’t expect this. He thought he’d come in here and skirt around the topic but still gain valuable information. But no. Both Ashton and Michael were too brilliantly observant for that. And now Ashton was saying that things should be moving faster? Did that mean…?

            “You think so?” was all he could say.

            Ashton nodded, chewing. “Oh yeah.”

            Calum finished his food. He held his plate, turning around to call for Michael, then thinking better of it. One, this wasn’t his house. Two, Michael was still a stranger. Three, it just seemed so impolite. He started to stand to take his own dishes to the sink. “Excuse me for—”

            “Calum’s done!” Ashton called.

            Calum froze. “It’s fine. I can take them.”

            “He likes it, don’t worry.”

            Michael came and got the plate and utensils, wordless.

            “Th…thanks,” Calum said.

            He really admired the relationship these two had. It was really lax but still sweet but still funny. And they obviously had, well…chemistry. He envied it.

            Michael came back in briefly, standing in the threshold between the kitchen and living room, absently touching one of his bandages. “You know, you should just say it out loud.” Ashton nodded. “It’s nice to admit it to yourself. That’s the first thing. Then you can talk to him.”

            Calum’s mouth was open, but he didn’t say anything. Michael turned back to clean.

            “Really. Take it from him. He’d be the one to know,” Ashton told him.

            Right. He would. “Okay.”

            Ashton moved his head, eyes wide: _Well. Go on._

            Calum sighed. “I might be…I think I like Luke. Like, the way you two like each other.”

            Michael clapped four times from the kitchen, making Calum smile and feel really embarrassed.

            Ashton smiled at him. “Does that feel better?”

            Calum sighed again. “I guess…it kind of does. I have trouble dealing with my own feelings. My friend helps me a lot, but I still find it hard. So, yeah. It does.”

            “Good. Now, how do you feel about the whole thing?”

            Oh, Calum could go on about that for miles. But one thing stuck out the most, “It’s so against the rules. I feel, like, blasphemous.”

            “Mm. That’s how Luke feels. _Domingo en fuego,_ ” he sang.

            Calum knew the song. It fit. “Yeah. Exactly. How Luke feels?”

            “Did you just say _en fuego_?” Michael said from the kitchen.

            Ashton went red. “I was just singing. I’m sorry.”

            “Yeah. You can apologize later. Make it up to me.”

            And Calum could not stop blushing.

            Ashton shook his head. “Jesus. Sorry. Again. Michael, behave yourself.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “Ah!” Ashton threw his arms up. “I can hear you smirking!”

            Michael started whistling, dishes clanging in the sink.

            Ashton turned back to Calum. “So, so sorry.”

            “No, it’s—it’s fine.” He kept blinking, trying to get images out of his head. He moved on. “Did you say, how Luke feels?”

            Ashton nodded. “Yeah. He feels like he’s breaking all the rules just because he likes you. I don’t think he’s worried about his job or anything, but he’s worried that he could get you in trouble.”

            Oh…so Luke definitely told Ashton he liked him. Was Luke going to say something to him? He’d been hoping all this time that he would, because he didn’t think he could say it himself. If Luke didn’t bring it up, nobody would. Emotionally, Calum just wasn’t ready to do that. No matter how sure he was about how Luke felt, he still was afraid of rejection.

            “I don’t think I can tell him.”

            Ashton tilted his head. “Right. Well, I’m trying to get him to talk to you, but he’s quite shy when it comes to this subject. I guess you are too. Lovely combination.”

            Calum shook his head. Ashton was right. “Yeah. And neither of _you_ were, so your experience doesn’t help me.”

            “Well, that’s not completely true. It was just different for us. I wasn’t so much shy as completely oblivious to my own feelings and to Michael’s feelings.” Michael came back to stand in the doorway. Ashton looked at him while he spoke. “Thank God Michael is confident as he is. Otherwise none of this would have happened. I had no idea that I even felt that way about him.” Michael smiled, looking at his feet.

            Calum couldn’t help but smile at them as well. They really liked each other. He wondered if it was more than that. “I wish I could be confident like that. Or Luke. Somebody.”

            “That’s the thing. You’ll have to figure out how it’s going to work. If you want to make your move then do it, but if you want to wait, then I can’t really tell you how long it will take him. But don’t stop spending time together.”

            “No of course not. I love being around Luke. He makes me feel good about myself.”

            “And he’s never mentioned anything about how he feels about you?”

            Calum thought. “No.”

            Ashton paused for a second. He put his finger up and asked, “Can I ask? Who hugged who? The first time?”

            Calum blushed once again. “That would be me. It was sort of spur-of-the-moment. I just did.”

            Ashton nodded, and so did Michael in the doorway. Calum felt like he was missing something.

            “What? What is it?”

            “He’s waiting for you, I think,” Ashton said.

            “Oh…” Calum looked at his hands. “But…I can’t. I’m no good at this. Only once things have actually _started_ do I get comfortable around someone. Once everything is out in the open. But I can’t be the first one to say something. What if he doesn’t really like me that way?”

            Ashton only looked at him. “I can tell you how incorrect you are about that.”

            “He looks at you like the stars,” Michael said.

            Calum remembered the constellations reflecting from Luke’s eyes. He swallowed. “I just can’t. Not before he does. I can’t do it— _say_ it. I want to, but I can’t.”

            Ashton nodded. “Then you wait. Until he’s ready. I can guarantee that he will be eventually. I just can’t give you an exact time. It’ll happen when you’re not expecting it—you’ll both be happy, thinking about something else entirely, maybe a debate you’ve just done or something like that. And then he’ll just say it. And then you’ll have to be ready to say something back.”

            Calum nodded. Okay. Could he wait? He thought he could. It might be agony, but it would be better than tripping over himself trying to go first and ruining everything. Yes, he could wait. He may even be able to speed the process. “Is there a practice for Feldmann any time soon? For individual?”

            Ashton looked over at Michael. “Either Thursday or next Tuesday. I can’t remember which. But yes. In the auditorium.”

            “I think it’s Thursday, actually,” Ashton added. “This week. Wow—sooner than I thought.”

            “The semester is flying,” Michael said. “So you’ll be there, Calum?”

            Calum nodded. “I suppose so. I’ve told Luke I will.”

            “Oh, be more excited than that. You’re very good,” Ashton said.

            “I seem to recall being trampled last week,” Calum said.

            “It was a good topic for me,” Michael said, shrugging one shoulder. “If I’m not in class or I’m not here, I’m probably playing video games. Or, like, sleeping.”

            “Seriously? I would think you sit in front of a textbook all day.”

            Michael just shrugged again.

            “Well,” Calum said, “yes. I’ll be there. Maybe then he’ll…”

            “If you do even the slightest bit well, it’ll up your chances. And make it seem at least a little like you’re reciprocating the feelings. I understand that it will be difficult for you—it always was for me until I met someone who drips confidence everywhere he goes and I just pick up the excess.” Michael snorted laughter. “Sometimes it’s easier to just push it all aside and make yourself think it isn’t there at all. But Luke doesn’t have that confidence with this sort of thing, so it’s going to take some time. Just…be you. That’s all he wants anyway.”

            Calum wanted to just curl up. He had no idea Luke felt like that about him. How much had Luke said about him to Ashton? How many times had they talked? Had Luke been distraught about it like he was? “Okay. I will. I really do like him. I just know that if I try to say anything then everything will go wrong. It always does. My emotions flip flop and decide to become something other than what they were. Like, I got angry at Luke when really I was disappointed in my football team and upset at myself for letting…and I just am _not_ good at this. Never have been.”

            “And neither is he.”

            Calum nodded. “Right.”

            “But he’ll come around. I promise he will. He’s avoiding it because he feels the same way you do. But I think he understands that as much as he wishes you would start it, it’s got to be him. I think deep down he knows that. I think he knows you better than either of you know, and maybe you’re the same way with him. You seem to get each other. You’ve travelled inside each other’s mind and scoped out what’s there. At least that what it seems like to me from what he’s said about you.”

            Calum wished he knew what Luke had said.

            “So just wait. It’ll come. Maybe sooner than you think. If he bucks up. I’ll talk to him again.”

            “Get Michael to rub off on him,” Calum said, and couldn’t believe he’d said it.

            They both smiled. “If we could, we would,” Ashton said.

            “I don’t know Luke well,” Michael said, “I did just meet him, but from what Ash says and what I saw last week, he’s one seriously awkward guy. But, like I said, he looks at you like you’re that unattainable light at the end of a dream.”

            Ashton sighed. “Michael…”

            “He does.”

            “I know. That’s the perfect way to say it.”

            Michael shrugged.

            Calum smiled softly. “I never knew. I’ve barely seen him look at me like that. My friend says he must do it while I’m looking away.”

            Ashton nodded. “That’s exactly it.”

            “You look at him, too,” Michael pointed out.

            Calum made a face, embarrassed. “I do?”

            “Mhm. Not the way he looks at you. His eyes are closed a little and sad and desperate but yours are wide open and bright and clear. Like you’re looking at a comet burning through the sky at twilight. You can see the light in your eyes. Well, we can.”

            Ashton smiled again, nodding. “Exactly.”

            Calum cleared his throat, trying to keep it from closing up. “I’m not good at hiding my expressions.”

            “Don’t. He needs to see them. It’ll help him.” Ashton stood.

            Calum looked at the clock. It had been over half an hour. He stood as well. “Okay. I won’t. Not that I could anyway.”

            “I’m getting a shower,” Michael said, walking down the short hallway.

            “Okay. Wait a second so I can help you with your face,” Ashton said. Michael made a noncommittal noise. Ashton turned back to Calum. “It’ll happen. And hey, maybe you’ll decide you _can_ say something first.”

            Calum scoffed. “I doubt it. But…I think Thursday should go well. Maybe. I’ve never really done an individual debate before.”

            “It won’t take much to make him proud of you.”

            Calum nodded. “Thank you so much. For helping me and reassuring me. I didn’t expect any of this when I came here.”

            “Of course. I’m really glad you stopped by. Luke will—”

            “Um…could you maybe not tell him I was here? I don’t know. I just don’t want him to…I don’t know.”

            “It’s okay. I wasn’t going to. It’s not my business to be getting in your business. Luke’s, on the other hand, yes. I can bug him to get his ass moving all I want.” He grinned. “But don’t worry. What happens here stays here.”

            “Thanks.”

            “Ow—Ash?” Michael’s voice came from the bathroom.

            “Oh man. I have to—”

            “Absolutely. Thanks again. Really.” Calum smiled genuinely, and Ashton returned it. They shook hands, and it was only a little awkward. Calum felt really close to these two already. Even Michael, who was still really only a phantom. “Bye, Michael. Thank you for breakfast,” he called.

            “Any time!” Michael answered.

            Calum smiled. “Okay. I’ll leave you guys. And I’ll try to man up.”

            “I’ll try to get Luke to. You have an interesting thing going here, you two.”

            “I know.” He rolled his eyes.

            Ashton nodded. “I like it. It’s not so straightforward as ours is. It’s like a novel.” He waved his hand. “Anyway. I’ll see you Thursday, I guess, huh?”

            Calum nodded. “You will. Have a good day. Thanks again.” He paused. “Again.”

            “Bye, Calum.”

            Calum went back downstairs, got on his bus, and texted Peter to meet for lunch and talk about everything. Absolutely everything.

            Tomorrow was Tuesday, and for that he was happy. But it was Thursday he was really excited about, deep down. His heart was on fire. And now he thought—was almost sure—that Luke’s was too.


	11. Not Yet

It turned out that Thursday’s individual practice was at seven at night. Luke told him in the office on Tuesday after class. Calum said he could bus over to Feldmann, but by the time it had finished, probably 8:30 or nine, the buses wouldn’t be running anymore.

            “Well…if you need me to, I could drive you home,” Luke had said.

            “It’s fine. I can walk.”

            “You know how I feel about that.”

            Calum smiled, looking at his hands. “Yeah. Okay. If you’re all right with it.”

            “Of course I am.”

            They’d looked at each other for a bit. Something was there. Not the wall Calum had felt before—something that was conductive, ready to allow something to flow between them. But whatever was supposed to flow wasn’t flowing yet.

            “Okay. Thank you,” Calum said.

            Ashton had been bugging Luke even more about Calum lately than he had been before. Ashton seemed so sure that Calum wouldn’t react badly if Luke told him how he felt, but Luke wasn’t. What would Ashton know about it anyway? Well…probably more than Luke thought. Ashton was brilliant. Ashton knew things that other people wouldn’t recognize if you threw it in their face. And still—

            Luke stood and Calum went and gave him a hug. They parted ways until Thursday.

 

Luke and Ashton sat in the audience seats in the auditorium at Feldmann. They were there waiting for the practices to start. Two students, paired at random from the group of this year’s participants, would be called up and given a topic and they would do a brief debate. They would be given constructive criticism of technique and tactic by the same judges that would be at the final competition in a few weeks at the end of the semester. Then pictures would be taken of the students with their teachers for a poster for the final debate. Pairings for the final debate would be made randomly at its beginning.

            Luke and Ashton watched Calum go up against another sophomore from Ms. Holly’s course. Calum did a good job, only flubbing one of his points and being unable to expand. He forgot a few key words here and there, but he continued to maintain his intellectual superiority, discussing the psychological side of his argument. His rebuttal was far better than the one he’d made the week before in class practice. Luke could see how much more confident Calum was being up there by himself. Once, Luke had caught Calum’s eye. Calum had looked away, but he stood up a little straighter and spoke a little clearer, light coming into his eyes. Ashton nudged Luke then, saying without speaking, _See? I’m serious. Just talk to him._ Luke had looked back at him: _I’m doing my best. You know me._ Ashton rolled his eyes. _Yeah. Why do I, again?_

Michael went up two groups later. He was amazing, again. He kept his complete confident composure, and he didn’t even need to look at his opponent to make him shrivel into himself. Michael won clearly, and Ashton didn’t look the slightest bit surprised.

            Luke was still amazed by Michael, but one thing he noticed was that Calum was catching up. Calum was speaking a little more like Michael did, but he still used what Luke had taught him during all their time together in his office. If Calum continued on this rapid incline he was scaling now, he would be at Michael’s level fairly soon. And that meant that they could potentially compete against each other during the final round of the final debate. That was how good Luke knew they were.

            When everyone was done with their debates and getting their critiques, the students and teachers were called in their pairs for pictures. Luke and Calum were second. They stepped up in front of the podium, standing next to each other. Luke felt like he should put his arm around Calum’s shoulder or something but before he could decide the picture was already taken.

            They walked to the back of the auditorium, waiting for their friends. Michael and Ashton went up on the stage. They stood close, Ashton putting his hand low on Michael’s back, underneath his jacket.

            “Them,” Luke said quietly.

            Calum nodded, looking at him.

            Luke swallowed, looked away, and crossed his hands in front of him. He knew it was time. He felt like it was time. Calum had done such a good job and Luke was so incredibly proud of him. The things he felt for Calum were bright and innumerable. He watched Ashton and Michael walk up the aisle together, heading towards them. They were so comfortable with each other. He and Calum were not, usually. Would they be if he told Calum how he felt? Or would Calum be scared or embarrassed out of his mind? And then would things get weird? Or…weirder than they were now?

            Ashton and Michael reached them.

            “Really great job guys. Wow,” Ashton said.

            “Michael, you were great,” Calum said.

            Luke liked how comfortable Calum seemed to be around Ashton. And Michael, too, for that matter. They all appeared to have become fast friends, which was odd considering they’d only met once last week. Well, some things just work out, he supposed.

            Calum continued. “You should have seen the look on your opponent’s face. You’re scary.”

            “I don’t try to be. I just go inward.” He put his hand up to his head, but accidentally touched his burn. He winced and dropped his hand.

            “Careful…” Ashton said, looking up at him.

            “What time is it?” Calum asked.

            Luke looked at his watch. “It’s eight forty-five.”

            “Yeah, I’m driving Michael home since the buses are done,” Ashton said.

            “Yeah. Me too,” Luke said, referring to Calum.

            Calum looked down. Ashton gave Luke another look: _Do it._

            Luke swallowed. “So, I guess it’s late.”

            Michael nodded. “I’d like to get home. I have a busy day tomorrow of trying not to burn myself again. It actually stings really bad right now.”

           Ashton’s body fell. He looked sadly at Michael.

            “We’ll go,” Luke said.

            But Calum liked watching Ashton and Michael interact. Ever since he’d talked to them last week, he couldn’t get over how easy and comfortable their relationship was. That was what he wanted. He wasn’t sure Luke could do that. But…he could help him. His stomach flipped. He’d thought for a moment that maybe he could mention everything to Luke tonight, right now, but then it made him feel sick. He couldn’t do it. He wasn’t ready. Luke had to be the one or Calum would throw up with anxiety.

            “Yeah. I’m getting tired,” Calum said, letting them be, trying to get alone with Luke.

            “Okay,” Ashton said, no longer paying attention to them, looking only at Michael. “See ya.”

            Luke and Calum smiled at each other, thinking the same thing: _He’s so in love…I wonder if he’s told Michael._

            “Bye, guys,” Calum said, and turned to go.

            Just before Luke turned to follow him, he saw Ashton and Michael walk off to the side, in the shadows where the few remaining people left in the auditorium couldn’t easily see them. Ashton reached up and pushed Michael’s hair gently back from the redness on his face. He traced the pads of his fingers along the outer edges where the skin was healing, gently, never wanting to hurt Michael. Michael leaned his head forward and closed his eyes. Luke felt intrusive, but he couldn’t help but bubble inside. He realized then how badly he wanted to touch Calum’s face, his cheeks, his jaw. He turned away and went outside with Calum to give them their privacy, knowing that Ashton would not be driving Michael back to his dorm but that they would be spending the night together.

            He and Calum, on the other hand…

            “Okay,” he said, reaching Calum, and they made their way down the steps.

They walked out, heading to Luke’s car. Calum said, “They’re so cute. And Michael is so good at this. I can’t believe I won mine. I mean, I did mess up once but still it went so well.”

            Luke smiled over at him. “You did a great job. I think you’re very ready for the final.”

            Calum shrugged, but Luke could see the confidence on his face. “I don’t know. Maybe not yet but…I’m excited.”

            “I think so. I think you’re wonderful.” He opened Calum’s door.

            Calum stood there for a moment, absorbing the compliment. He went to Luke and, before getting in the car, gave him a quick hug. “You’re always so kind to me. And I know I’ve said it before but thank you for taking me under your wing, I guess. My self-esteem and my sense of self have boosted so high.”

            Luke wished Calum had hugged him longer. “Thing is though, it’s just you. All of it was you. I just facilitated it.”

            Calum blushed. “Thank you.” His heart was beating out of time and he wanted to hug Luke again. Both of them knew something had happened over the past few weeks. Something had connected them together and had been pulling them closer to each other ever since. Neither of them had said anything at this point. Calum still wasn’t ready.

            But Luke was. He finally thought he was. He watched Calum get in the car, shut his door, and went around to sit in front of the steering wheel. And it started raining.

            “Good timing,” Calum said, watching the drops hit his window.

            Yes, Luke was ready. Ashton had been right this entire time; Luke had just been too much of a wimp to act on it. He was feeling like he could right now and so he was going to. “Calum…” _Oh God. Just say it._ _You need to._ “Can I tell you something?”

            Calum didn’t turn around right away. He had a sense of what Luke might be wanting to say. His brain wasn’t ready, his heart wasn’t ready, his nerves weren’t ready. But still…he wanted to hear Luke say it. He turned and looked Luke in the eyes. They were full and bright. He didn’t say anything, but nodded.

            Luke thought, _Okay…now what?_ How to put it? Should he skirt around it? Should he use words that weren’t the right words but meant the same thing? Should he just tell Calum outright? What would Ashton say… Ashton would say to tell him. Now.

            He blurted it out. “I have feelings for you.”

            Calum pressed his lips together. “I…”

            “I know it’s not right and that I shouldn’t feel like this for one of my students but I’m still a student too and I think—” No. This wasn’t the time to rationalize. This was the time to say how he felt. “I like you. A lot. I’ve found something in you that I haven’t found in anyone else and I don’t know what it is but it draws me in. I want to be near you—nearer than we are even now. Mind and body and soul. And I need to know if you…if you feel anything too. For me, I mean.” He stopped, watching Calum’s face.

            Calum had no idea what to say or do. He couldn’t handle what was happening inside his body right now. He wanted to run. But he didn’t. But he didn’t say anything either.

            “Calum? Anything? Even if it’s a no, I just…I need to know.”

            Nothing. Staring.

            “Please say something. I want you to want me this way. But if you don’t feel a thing, or if you don’t know…”

            Still nothing. Calum didn’t _look_ like he was going to say no, but he just wouldn’t say _anything_. He was just sitting there, arms in his lap, looking at him. Maybe this was something Calum just couldn’t talk about out loud. Maybe…

            Now Luke felt like he had just ruined everything. Ashton was completely wrong. He never should have said anything, and then Calum wouldn’t be sitting there unable to talk to him anymore. Luke felt like their relationship, whatever it was or wasn’t, was now over. He wanted to cry, but he didn’t. He turned forward, starting the car. “It’s late. I’ll take you home.”

            “There’s something.” Calum nearly whispered it.

            Luke looked back at him.

            “There’s…I do feel something. I’m just not…” He sighed. He could go into an entire monologue about his emotions and the way he’d felt over this whole time and how bad he was at dealing with himself. But Ashton had been right. Luke was ready. Calum had to man up and return it or he was going to lose him. “I’m not good at recognizing my feelings. But I do feel something for you. I’ve looked in your eyes and I’ve heard you speak and I…want more. I don’t know.”

            Luke tried not to sigh too hard. He nodded. “Okay. That’s…that’s absolutely okay. We’ll figure it out.” He smiled faintly. “Thank you for telling me.”

            Calum nodded and swallowed. The air in the car was thick with tension.

            Luke turned on the headlights and the windshield wipers. “Let me take you home.” He started for Gordon Hall.

            After a few minutes, the silence, save for the rain, was too much. Normally, they would fill it with their words, admiring each other from within, absorbing each little thing the other said. They _needed_ words to fill the silence. Words were what they did, and the quiet was always too thick, too palpable. For them, words were both a nuisance and an absolute necessity. Luke could imagine Ash and Michael just laying in silence and staring at each other, or sitting close on the couch watching TV and not at all talking. But he and Calum needed words. That was all there was to it, especially now. But it was awkward now, and neither knew what to do about it.

            Finally, Calum broke the silence, quietly. “Could we maybe put on some music?”

            “Of course. Here.” He handed Calum the auxiliary cord.

            “Oh…I don’t know what to play.”

            Luke shrugged. “Anything. We have the same taste.”

            _Yeah, we do. That’s one thing I like so much. About us._ “I’ll just shuffle it.”

            Calum plugged his phone in and hit shuffle. Twenty One Pilots came on: “Screen”.

            “Oh. I like this one,” Luke said, reaching over and turning up the volume a few notches. And they both sat there listening, really _hearing_ it, probably for the first time.

 

_I do not know why I would go_

_In front of you and hide my soul_

_‘Cause you’re the only one who knows it_

_Yeah you’re the only one who knows it_

_And I will hide behind my pride_

_I don’t know why I think I could lie_

_‘Cause there’s a screen on my chest_

            “ _Yeah there’s a screen on my chest,_ ” Luke sang quietly.

            _Jesus, these lyrics_ , Calum thought. How did every song one of them mentioned always fit their relationship so well? Calum felt like he’d been hiding from Luke ever since he’d started to feel something for him. And yet Luke was the first person to ever really see inside him and be able to identify and bring out what was there. And as prideful as Calum had been, as stubborn and immature and scared, Luke had stayed. And Luke had always been kind.

 

_I’m standing in front of you_

_I’m standing in front of you_

_I’m trying to be so cool_

_Everything together trying to be so cool_

            _Wow. These lyrics,_ Luke thought. They seemed to say exactly what he couldn’t. Here he’d been, right in front of Calum this whole time, feeling everything for him at once, and yet he’d had to keep it all in. Because he didn’t know how Calum felt about him. But maybe…maybe now he did.

            “Do you know the rap?” Calum suddenly asked him.

            “Not really. I used to.”

            Calum chewed his lip, waiting for the chorus to end. Luke’s spirits lifted, knowing Calum was going to do it. Calum immediately blushed, eyes on the road and unable to look at Luke looking at him, while he spoke the verse.

 

_“I can’t see past my own nose, I’m seeing everything in slow-mo_

_Look out below, crashing down to the ground_

_Just like a vertical locomotive…”_

            Luke was barely suppressing a grin. Calum’s voice had risen a bit in imitation of Tyler Joseph. He was getting the words spot on, his timing just right and his flow perfectly smooth. Luke listened, mouthing a few words he could remember here and there. The verse was ending, and he planned on joining for the chorus.

            “ _So excuse us while we sing to the sky,_ ” Calum finished, smiling.

            They both sang the chorus: “ _I’m standing in front of you…_ ”

            They glanced over at each other, both finally fully smiling. Luke tapped his fingers on the wheel while Calum folded his hands in his lap, both extremely uncomfortable and completely comfortable at the same time. The bridge came, and they both stopped.

 

_We’re broken people…_

 

            They looked at each other. Neither said it, but they were both thinking it: they were broken people. Everyone was broken somehow. Luke had gone years unloved by anyone except for Ashton, and that only half counted. Calum had gone years with no one understanding him because he didn’t even understand himself. But now…

            “Calum—”

            But Calum started singing the final chorus, purposefully interrupting Luke but doing it with a wide smile on his face and looking right at him. Luke smiled back, singing the lines from the bridge over Calum’s chorus. Calum reached over and turned the volume up even louder. Luke watched as he put his hands up in the air, pointing his fingers, moving his arms in an adorable little dance. Luke laughed a little, still singing.

            What great deed had he done to deserve Calum in his life? He couldn’t figure it out. He probably never would.

            “Screen” ended. Calum put his hands back down. The tension in the air had dissipated. It was still a little awkward, but okay.

            “I really like that song,” Luke said.

            Calum nodded. “Me too.” He glanced out the window. “We’re here.”

            “Oh.” Luke hit the brakes, pulling up about ten yards away from the entrance. He put the car in park and turned off the headlights, on reflex.

            They sat there for a second, neither saying anything.

            Then Calum turned. Smiling softly, he said, “Thanks again, Luke.”

            “Of course, Calum,” Luke said.

            Were they going to keep talking about it? Or would it be saved for another day? Luke didn’t know which one he would prefer. This had ended on a good note, so maybe it would be best if they just let the words be for now.

            And as if they’d done it a hundred times before, they leaned across the center console and hugged each other one more time. Thankfully, it was a small car, so it wasn’t too awkward. Luke wrapped his arms around Calum’s torso, feeling Calum’s biceps around his upper arms at the same time. He rested his chin on Calum’s shoulder. Calum smelled amazing, like cedarwood, shyness, confidence, and a punk-rock façade. Unconsciously, Luke turned his face downward and pressed his nose into Calum’s shoulder, edging closer to his neck.

           Calum could feel Luke’s hands pressing into his back. He could feel each individual fingertip beneath the fabric of his shirt. He felt like he should say _something_ , maybe thank Luke again. But he couldn’t say a word. All that came to mind were those same lyrics once again: _I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment to come…_ He knew what he felt. He knew the ‘something’ had turned into one particular thing. He couldn’t say it out loud to Luke earlier because he still hadn’t been sure. But now he knew. After hearing the song and hearing Luke sing along to it, he knew. He could feel Luke’s breath warm on his neck. The rain pattered on the windshield.

           Luke wanted badly to do more than just hug Calum. Very simply, he felt a closer mental connection to Calum than he had with anyone else in his life, even Ashton. All the rationalizations and negations ran through his head over and over again. It still felt so wrong…Calum was his student. Calum was his _student_. But…

           He turned his head so that his lips brushed against Calum’s neck.

           “Calum?” he asked quietly.

           Calum let out a sigh of relief that he hoped Luke didn’t hear but still didn’t really mind if he did. He tightened his grip on his Debate teacher and replied:

           “Luke.”

           So it was okay? It must be okay. _Do it,_ Luke told himself.

           Calum shuddered as Luke pressed his mouth to his neck and kissed him softly. Calum raised his hand from Luke’s back and brought it to his hair. He pushed gently, pressing Luke’s face deeper into his pulse point. Luke kissed him, warmly and delicately—no marks would be left…that would be too dangerous. Luke brought his face around to the front of Calum’s neck. He kissed in the hollow between Calum’s Adam’s apple and collarbone, and felt the vibration beneath his lips when Calum hummed softly. Calum tilted his head back, and Luke kissed underneath his chin.

          Calum could feel the heat coming into his belly. He laced his fingers into Luke’s hair and let him explore the cords of his neck with his mouth a little longer. Finally, Calum decided it was his turn. He shifted in the seat, trying to find a better position. He reached his hand behind him for some form of leverage to swivel to face Luke better, and his finger caught on the automatic window switch. The window rolled down. Rain poured through, dripping down his back.

          He yelped, and Luke jumped back, startled.

          “Shit,” Luke breathed and reached over to mash to roll-up switch.

          With the window finally closed, Luke leaned back. Calum briefly examined the back of his shirt—now soaking wet—then let it go and turned back toward Luke.

          Neither of them said anything for a few moments. Calum watched Luke’s blue eyes flick back and forth, searching his own. His thin lips with the piercing mark on the lower left side were parted slightly, trying to find something to say. They couldn’t, and they closed and Luke swallowed hard.

          After a long time, Calum said, “Thank you for driving me home.”

          “I…” Luke wanted to rewind the last minute. He wanted to pull Calum closer so he wouldn’t have had to move around so much to get to him. He wanted to lock the doors and turn the car off so none of the buttons would work. But it was too late. So he only said, “Of course.”

          “I’ll see you in class,” Calum said, and picked his backpack up off the floor.

          Luke grasped his arm. He wanted to shout. He wanted to tell Calum to please stay, don’t let something like that ruin everything. _Don’t go. Not yet_ , he thought. This was just like when Calum had hugged him, right here in front of his dorm. He wanted more. He looked at his student, still unable to say what was on his mind. Even a speaker such as he couldn’t help himself when it came to this person in front of him. He held Calum’s arm.

          Calum slung his backpack over his shoulder. Luke lessened his grip, knowing this was the way it should be. This was all they would have, because it happened when neither of them had been thinking. It was wrong; it was against the rules. Calum probably regretted it already. All their feelings were just a result of serotonin from Calum’s winning the debate tonight. Even though that didn’t explain all the feelings from before tonight, but whatever. Calum was going to leave now, and this should never have happened in the first place. Luke let go of Calum’s arm.

          But Calum grasped his hand for a brief moment before letting it go again. Then he leaned across the console and kissed Luke on the mouth. Before Luke could put his hands up to cup Calum’s jaw, Calum leaned back, put his other arm through his backpack, and got out of the car, shut the door, and jogged through the rain into his dorm hall.

          Luke stared out the window for a minute, then turned forward, falling back into the seat. He felt like crying for so many reasons: happiness, sadness, fear, relief. So he took out his phone and turned his music to shuffle. “Last Night On Earth” started to play as he put the car in drive and headed back to his apartment.


	12. I Wish I Was

It had all gone far too quickly.

            Driving back to his apartment, Luke could still feel Calum’s hand in his hair. He could still feel the tingle on his lips from Calum’s soft hum. He could still feel Calum gripping his hand just before he’d kissed him and left.

            Before he’d _finally_ kissed him. That was the first time they’d ever truly kissed each other. Well…this was the first time they’d been unafraid enough to _say_ something. Luke was endlessly glad that Calum reacted in the way that he did. If Calum had rejected him he didn’t know what he would have done. But he hadn’t.

            Luke wished he could have kept Calum for just a moment longer; even just a few kisses would have been everything for him. But he was still grateful that it happened. And _Calum_ had been the one to do it. Sure, Luke had been kissing his neck just before but…Calum made the conscious decision to lean over and kiss Luke when there was absolutely no reason, no need for him to do so.

            Luke had thought that when Calum picked up his backpack it would be the end of their relationship, maybe even their friendship. Calum would leave that night and the only time Luke would ever see him again would be in class where Calum would have moved back to the far end of the lecture hall. Calum would do well; he would finish all his work and he would participate in class debates. Calum would eventually pass the class, probably with an A. But Calum wouldn’t come to office hours; Calum wouldn’t go to Feldmann. Calum would be out of his life forever.

            But when Calum made that decision, when he had leaned over and actually kissed him, Luke was sure it couldn’t be the end. Luke only hoped he could be alone with Calum again very soon.

            He thought immediately about his office. Was it secluded? Sort of. He had his office where the other TAs did, so it wasn’t exactly a full building. But would they be safe there? The TAs and professors were allowed to close the doors during their meetings with students, but they technically weren’t supposed to lock them. Luke thought that was a chance he could easily take. At this point, he cared less and less if _he_ was caught, but he was worried about Calum. If Calum wasn’t expelled for being with a teacher, he certainly wouldn’t be allowed to play football anymore. No, the office wouldn’t be safe enough. They needed somewhere completely secluded. Somewhere he could guarantee that no one else would be there. Somewhere like his apartment.

            He suddenly imagined himself pulling up to his apartment in ten minutes and Calum magically standing there in the rain waiting for him, muscle tee weighted down by water away from his collarbone. And Luke would get out and then everything would happen really fast and they would be inside and their wet clothes wouldn’t be a problem anymore and—

            But no. Calum was at his dorm. Calum had only kissed him once, quick. And Luke wasn’t the kind of person who could do that anyway. He had to remind himself that he and Calum weren’t Ashton and Michael. They wouldn’t talk the same, they wouldn’t act the same, and they wouldn’t…be with each other the same.

            Luke came to a stop sign, flicked on the right-hand blinker, and put his fingers through his hair. This was a dangerous game they were playing. But to Luke it didn’t feel like a game. And he didn’t think it did to Calum, either.

            He needed a drink. No, he didn’t need a drink—he didn’t want to wash away the faint taste of Calum that lingered on his lips, the smell of Calum’s body in his brain. What he needed was to figure this shit out. This was something he had never experienced before—this complete uncertainty about everything. What if Calum really _didn’t_ ever want to see him again? What if that kiss was some way of saying, ‘Thanks for the memories, gotta go…’? Wouldn’t Calum have said something if he wanted to see Luke like that again? Maybe he was overthinking it.

            But what if he _did_ see Calum again, and what if things started snowballing and getting out of control? What if they got caught? Teacher and student, alone in office, no discussion heard through the door…hey, Jerry, Luke’s been in there a while with that guy, do you think they’re okay? Let’s check. _No._ Don’t check. Don’t catch us doing… whatever this is we’re doing.

            Luke’s brain was running on overdrive. _What are we doing?_ he thought. _What am_ I _doing? This is so against rules and morals and ethics it’s not even funny._

            Christ. He needed to figure this out. He needed someone who had dealt with something like this before. He needed his best friend.

            He changed the blinker even though there was no one behind him and made a left, heading down the road towards Ashton’s place.

 

…

 

Calum was glad he’d left so soon. Not because he didn’t want to be with Luke, but because he didn’t want to be with Luke there in the car on the side of the road outside his dorm. There were better ways. Still, it was endlessly hard for him to have just pulled away and gone. He wished he’d stayed just a moment longer, just for a few more kisses…but he knew it would have gotten out of hand. Luke was irresistible enough just sitting there; Calum could hardly control himself when Luke had grabbed his arm and stared at him with those sorry blue eyes. If Calum had done much more than kiss him quick and go…

            Calum, all at once—like a snap of the fingers—was no longer uncomfortable. What he’d told Ashton was true: he couldn’t say or do a single thing before because he was too scared, too unsure. But now that he knew _exactly_ how Luke felt, everything clicked and fell into place. Calum was pretty sure that the tables would now make a full one-eighty. He was going to be the confident, let’s go side of the relationship, and Luke would step back, unsure of himself. So the car wasn’t the place to begin this. They needed to be face-to-face, direct with each other.

            Calum wanted to be somewhere better when things turned into more. He was pretty sure it would happen. He felt like it was mostly in his control. He knew Luke wanted him—you didn’t just kiss someone all over their neck like that when you’d barely even touched them before if you didn’t truly want them. And the feeling was undoubtedly mutual.

            Yes. He wanted to be somewhere better, and he didn’t want to be soaking wet from the rain. He stripped off his shirt and flopped down on his bed.

            He feathered his fingertips over his neck, remembering Luke asking him if it was all okay just by saying his name before he started to kiss him. He wondered what Luke was thinking now. Maybe Luke was regretting it; maybe he felt guilty and never wanted to even think of it again… But Calum didn’t think so.

            What Calum thought was that Luke was an amazing neck kisser. He wanted to know how Luke would kiss him on the lips; the close-mouthed kiss they’d shared for half a second was only the slightest preview. He wanted to know if Luke’s kissing was more conservative and sweet, barely opening his mouth, or heavier and more fiery, with tongue and teeth. He bet it would be a perfect mixture of the two. He bet that one second Luke would be all over him, biting his lips and gripping his body with his long-fingered hands, then Calum would groan his name and he would freeze, whisper “ _Calum,_ ” and give him the lightest of kisses on his mouth and nose and forehead before he started up again.

            Calum loved the way Luke’s lips had felt against his skin. He loved the way Luke sounded when he breathed out. He loved the feel of Luke’s hair between his fingers. He loved the look on Luke’s face when he’d kissed him on the mouth.

            Lying on his bed with one arm behind his head and one hand on his stomach, Calum felt himself getting hard beneath the zipper of his jeans.

            “Oh…fuck.” He didn’t want to do this now. He wanted to _be_ with Luke, not think about him. He ran into the bathroom and started the shower on cold. He took off everything else and got in. The water on his back reminded him of the rain through the window. It reminded him of being in that car with Luke, of Luke pressing his nose into his shoulder and taking in a deep breath. This was not the point of coming in here.

            _Something else._ Anything _else._ _Not right now._

            He heard the door to the dormroom open. _Ah, the prodigal roommate returns_. From that movie: _A Beautiful Mind_. That he’d mentioned to Luke that night. When Luke had showed him the stars. When they had hugged each other for the first time. When Calum knew how he felt. And now he knew how Luke felt. Would their hugs change? Certainly did earlier—

            _STOP._

            “Hey, I’m back, dude!” Calum heard him thunk down on his bed. “Yo. Calum.”

            “Obviously in the shower, Brent,” Calum called out. He looked down and saw that any trace of arousal was effectively gone. He turned the water as hot as he could get it.

            “Hurry up, dude. I’ve got Maddie’s perfume all over me. Gotta get it off.”

            “Not my fucking problem…” Calum mumbled. “Five minutes,” he shouted. He grabbed his shampoo and scrubbed his hair.

            As he lay in bed after drying off and changing, trying to fall asleep, he tried to keep his mind off of Luke. The effort was pointless. Luke kept popping up in his mind: Luke not two hours ago in the car, Luke drawing the sun cycle on the whiteboard, Luke leaning over the railing to talk to him at the scrimmage, Luke turning around to beam at him the first day Calum asked for his professor’s attention and help in his class.

            Calum flipped onto his side and half-expected his overactive neurons to produce Luke’s face there in front of him. And when Calum closed his eyes, Luke was there, closing his own.

 

            Some time later, Calum woke up, rolled over, grabbed his notebook from under his bed, and, underneath _façade of make believe,_ wrote down

 

_I wish I was, I wish I was…beside you._

 

            Then he rolled back over, and fell back asleep.

 

…

 

Luke knocked twice on Ashton’s door.

            “Why are even you knocking, Hemmings? Can’t you see it’s unlocked?” Luke heard Ashton call from inside. Then he heard the sound of a utensil hitting the floor and Ashton swearing. He laughed and went in.

            “What are you doing?” he called before he found Ashton in his kitchen.

            “Trying to make a cheese toastie and burning my fingers off, apparently.” Ashton picked the knife up off the floor and put it in the sink. “I don’t know why I even use a knife to get ‘em out when I still end up touching the grate.” He turned and looked at Luke, holding the sandwich in one hand. “Oh, boy, you look a mess. Look at your hair! And you’re all wet, Luke. Here, you need this more than I do.” He handed Luke the sandwich, and as much as Luke didn’t want to contaminate his mouth tonight, he was actually hungry.

            “Thanks,” he said, and took a bite. Ashton turned around and produced another sandwich from the toaster. “Oh…” Luke said, his mouth full. “Oh no, is…” He swallowed and lowered his voice. “Is Michael here?”

            Ashton quirked a smile at him. “Why are you whispering? First of all, no. Second of all, if he were here the door wouldn’t have been unlocked and I wouldn’t have answered. Third of all…I just wanted two toasties, okay? I’m hungry.” Luke started to hand his back. Ashton groaned. “God, Luke, just eat it.” And he went to the living room and sat down. Luke followed.

            “How’d you know it was me?” he asked when he sat down next to Ashton on the sofa.

            Ashton put up a finger. “I know your knock.” Luke smiled and Ashton laughed. “And I was expecting you.”

            “You were?”

            “You drove him home. I figured you’d be by afterwards. To talk.” He tilted his head to the side to examine Luke. “Hair’s a little roughed up…cheeks still a little flushed…but you don’t look about to explode from joy. So what went down and how fast did it end and what are you going to do about it?”

            Wow. Ashton always knew everything. Brilliant bastard.

            Luke sighed and shook his head.

            “That bad?” Ashton asked.

            “No…no. I mean…” Oh, lord. Now he knew why Ashton, the most confident guy he knew, always got so cute and quiet when he talked about Michael. It was hard to give details. And Luke’s weren’t even that much. “I guess we kind of kissed.” He felt his face get hot all at once.

            “Really? Like, how?”

            Luke barked out a laugh. He put down his sandwich. “I sort of…well, we were in my car and we hugged and I had my chin on his shoulder and I kind of just…” He turned his face sideways in an attempt to demonstrate.

            Ashton leaned back. “Ahh…went for the neck, did you? Michael likes to do that. Well? How did it feel?”

            Luke sighed out his nerves again. “I mean…it was amazing. He smelled so good. And his skin is so soft and at one point he kind of hummed and I could feel it…” he brought his fingertips to his mouth, then dropped his hand back to his lap. He looked up at Ashton.

            “Hands in your hair?” Ashton asked. Luke nodded. “And how did it feel when he kissed _you_?”

            Luke pressed his lips together. “That’s the thing…we didn’t really get there.”

            “Mmm…”

            Luke nodded again. “The window opened and the rain—”

            “You didn’t lock the car and turn it off?”

            Luke palmed his face and fell back into the sofa. “No,” he mumbled through his hands. “Like an idiot, I did not.”

            “Lesson learned,” Ashton said.

            “Thanks, Ash.” Luke threw him a look. Ashton only smiled and shrugged. “Anyway,” Luke continued, “the window opened and the rain came in and that basically put a stop to it all.”

            “Did he leave then?”

            “I thought he would. When he got his backpack I kind of grabbed his arm.” Ashton raised an eyebrow. “But I let it go when I couldn’t say anything. But then he just kissed me, really quick on the mouth.”

            “Okay.”

            “And then he left. He didn’t say anything.”

            Ashton nodded some more. “And that ending was too soon for you? Or, was it all too much?”

            “God, no. Not enough. Way too soon.” Luke blushed again and flicked his eyes up at Ashton, who was only smiling still. “Well…I wished he’d stayed a bit longer, I suppose. That was the first time we really kissed—did anything but hug, I mean—but on the mouth. And it was so quick and only once…just a few more would have been really nice.”

            Ashton finished his sandwich and crossed his arms. “I think you needed to be somewhere else. I think your situation, even without the rain, was kind of wrong.”

            “That’s true,” Luke said, even though he would have been perfectly happy there. But Ashton was right. It wasn’t the best place to be, and he knew it was unsafe. Maybe Calum thought so too.

            “So, why so down then? It was pretty nice, wasn’t it?”

            “It was, but…”

            “But?”

            “I don’t know. I feel a little weird about it. A lot weird.” Luke hugged himself, feeling a little uncomfortable. “I want him, I know that. But I know it’s super against the rules. I know that things could go way off course or…I don’t even know what.” He widened his eyes, suddenly feeling exposed and even more unsure of himself. Now that something had actually happened between them, it was all becoming very real. All the worries were resurfacing and becoming visible, tangible beasts. “I don’t even know.”

            “Well, I think you—”

            “How do you _not_ feel weird?” Luke interrupted. “What do I do to stop being so obsessed with the rules and getting in trouble? How do you and Michael stay so calm about it? Or maybe you don’t…”

            “No, we do,” Ashton said simply.

            Luke grunted, messing with his fingernails.

            “Here’s the thing,” Ashton said. “I don’t know what your way of—Luke, stop. _Hey_.” He touched Luke’s hands to get him to stop picking at his fingers. Luke jerked his head up and looked Ashton in the eyes. Ashton could see he was nervous and a little frightened. This was what Calum could do to him. He needed to rein it in or he’d drown.

            “Put your hands under your legs.”

            “What?” Luke said.

            “Sit on your hands. Stop picking at your nails. That’s a bad habit.” Luke did as he said. “Now listen. I don’t know what your way of dealing with this type of anxiety is, but I do know that you’re capable of an extreme calm. When you’re up on that podium…you should see your face. Your eyes close a little and you stand up as straight as can be and you have just the smallest of arrogant smiles on your lips. Get that little dimple you have. You look like Don Draper making a pitch after he’s had just the perfect amount of Old Fashioned. You’re under that red curtain. That’s what you need to be like right now. If you need to fake it, if you need to put on a shell to get through the anxiety, then that’s what you do.”

            Luke squirmed, but he kept his hands under his thighs. Ashton was right. Ashton was always right.

            “And when you’re alone with him, you can take the shell away. And when you’re with him but you’re not alone, you can choose what you want to do. He’ll understand. He’s a smart guy. And he may even have the same anxieties you do. You should talk to him about it.”

            Luke sighed. He took his hands out from under his legs and placed his palms on his thighs calmly. “Okay. Okay, you’re right. Of course you’re right. I just…I’m so nervous about the whole thing. I don’t want to get him in trouble. What if someone sees us together or finds out about us?”

            Ashton thought for a moment. Luke waited, focusing on not wringing his hands again. Finally, Ashton said, “At first, we tried not to be seen in public too often. Or, at least, I did. I remember once, the third day of this semester, we were walking around after class—one of the optimal times to talk to Mikey and therefore Calum, by the way; it looks like you’re discussing coursework or the day’s lecture. Anyway, we were walking and suddenly he yanked me around a corner to the back of the physics building that faces the woods.” Luke listened intently, nodding. “He pinned me to the brick wall like he did that day he came to my office and he got really close. I was like, ‘What are you doing! Someone might see.’ And he…he’s always so calm about everything, like you when we’re debating. I love that about him. Even when he’s wild and that glint comes into his eyes, he still keeps that outer layer of calm, like he never worries and never cares about what might happen. He shook his head at me and said, ‘This is our reality,’ and I said, ‘It’s crazy stupid, Michael. Someone’s going to walk around that corner right now and—’ And he just smiled. His eyes were so big but still so calm. And he said, ‘You know this is the way it’s supposed to be.’ He pressed his body close to me and kissed me for a while, right outside, on campus. Then we just went about like nothing happened. And nobody ever said a thing.”

            Ashton put his hands out as if to say, _What can you do?_

            Luke was fascinated but also confused. He truly enjoyed hearing about Ashton and Michael, and hearing how happy this student he didn’t really know could make his best friend. But he wasn’t sure what Ash was trying to say.

            “Right,” Ashton said. “The point. The point is that basically I just had to let myself go. Stop being so uptight about the whole thing. I think you’re thinking way too much about the rules and the problems and the consequences and what might happen to you two if you do this. And if you focus on that too much then nothing will ever work out. I think you should just…” And he flitted his fingers through the air, making a fly away motion with one hand. “Let it go. Forget about it all. Still be cautious but…you know what I’m saying? You’ll be happy. I know I am.”

            Luke sighed. “I know you are. You’re so lucky. Or maybe you’re just brilliant and good at everything.”

            Ashton smiled. “I like to think it’s Michael that holds this thing together. He’s just…very confident. That’s not quite the right word, but yeah. Confident.”

            “I wish I was,” Luke said.

            “You are. Just not in this.”

            Luke fussed with his hair a little.

            “The hair’s beyond repair, Luke,” Ashton said, and Luke dropped his hands again.

            “So…what do I do?” he asked.

            Ashton leaned back and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. “What do you think you should do?”

            “Ugh, Ash.” Luke swiveled and kicked his feet up too. They sat close to each other, friends in a landscape of trouble and grey area—one Ashton had learned to navigate and one Luke was suddenly being thrust blindly into. “You sound like me trying to teach my students. ‘Well, what do _you_ think?’ ” He sighed and let his head loll to the side so he could look at Ashton. “I guess I should talk to him, huh? Again.”

            Ashton turned his head and they smiled at each other. “I guess maybe you should.”

            They both turned their heads forward again. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the rain. Then Ashton said, “Or maybe you shouldn’t.”

            Luke sat up a little and looked at him.

            Ashton shrugged and closed his eyes. “When Michael’s having a time with something…he doesn’t usually talk much about it. He just comes here and locks the door behind him.”

            Luke didn’t say anything. He leaned back again, waited for Ashton to say something else or turn on the TV. But Ashton was quiet. Luke closed his eyes and thought.

 

…

 

Calum woke up at six in the morning, and there were two things he was sure of. The first was that he did not want to go to class or practice today. All he wanted was to see Luke again. The second was that he figured he should call Peter. He didn’t know why he felt Peter should know about it, but he thought he should tell someone. He actually would call Michael, too, if he had his phone number. He made a note to get that. And Luke’s. Jesus.

            Calum wasn’t sure Peter would be awake yet but… He got up, put on a shirt, took his phone off the charger, and went out into the dark, silent hallway outside the door of his room so he wouldn’t wake Brent.

            He tapped Peter’s name, pulling the phone up to his ear. It rang a few times, and Calum thought it was too early and he should have just waited. But Peter did pick up.

            “You’re up early,” Peter said, voice thick with sleep.

            Calum heard the sound of him sitting up in his bed. He was so lucky to have a single dorm. “Hi, Pete. Thanks for not yelling at me.”

            “Well, this must be important. If it’s not, I’m going to yell at you.”

            “I kissed Luke.”

            Nothing for a moment. Then a quiet laugh. “Nice, Cal. How did it go?”

            Calum grinned, sliding down the wall to a sitting position, tucking his knees up to his chest and wrapping his left arm around them. His voice echoed a little bit down the hallway. He lowered it. “It was amazing. Well, I mean…it was awkward up until it actually started. _He_ told _me_ how he felt. Can you believe that? Well…I couldn’t have done it but he’s just so shy I can’t believe he actually said it. I think I was a total ass right after because I couldn’t open my mouth to get the words out to tell him how I felt. But I sort of did and we—oh my God. We _sang_ together. Ugh. And then we got back to my dorm and we were in his car—”

            “Sleaze,” Peter said.

            Calum laughed. “Shut up. We didn’t do _that_. But we hugged and then he was, like, all over my neck and—God, Peter, his _hair._ I could feel it on my face and I grabbed it in my hands and…Christ. And then—oh fuck.” He put his hand to his face, embarrassed at just the memory. “I accidentally opened the window and it rained literally into the car all over me.”

            Peter snorted. “Good going.”

            Calum groaned. “I know. But anyway I ended up kissing him really quick and then I ran away because I didn’t want things to get out of hand. I didn’t want to be a sleaze, like you said. It just wasn’t right.”

            “I understand. So, how do you think he feels right about now?”

            Calum thought. “I don’t know. I think he’s probably thinking he’s done something wrong. He gets that way. But he’s probably also thinking he wants to see me again. Is that arrogant to say? I mean, I really want to see him again. I’d like to hope he wants to see me.”

            “I’m sure he does.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Mhm.”

            “Okay. Good. I couldn’t stop thinking about him last night. About the way his hands were touching my spine and…I almost had to relieve—”

            “No thanks. You don’t need to tell me about that. It’s six in the morning, Cal, Jesus.”

            Calum giggled. “Sorry. I’m just…” He sighed. “I’m so relieved.”

            “I’m really happy for you, Calum. I mean, this is going to be hard for you two to work out—keeping it a secret, I mean. You’re going to want to tell people.”

            “Well I have you for that.”

            “Please don’t tell me every little thing Calum,” he said, laughing. “You’re cute and all but I don’t want to hear the details.”

            “Oh my God. That is not what I meant.” He paused. “But I will tell you at some point. When you’re least expecting it.” He grinned.

            “Gee. I can’t wait.”

            Calum laughed again. “Plus, we have Ashton and Michael to talk to if we need them. And you know I don’t mean that kind of talking. Like, the talking we do. When you help me with all my shit.”

            “You do have a lot of shit.”

            “Thanks, Peter.” He could tell Peter was grinning.

            “But really.” His voice got serious. “That’s why I’m here.”

            Calum smiled. “Thank you. Peter, I…you’re a really good friend, you know that?”

            “I thought you were going to say you loved me.”

            Calum cracked up, covering his mouth so the sound wouldn’t reverberate down the hallway. “I do though. Don’t you love me? I mean, not the way I love Luke, but—”

            Silence.

Peter: “Cal?”

            “No. No that’s…I can’t know that yet.” His voice cracked.

            “I agree. Paging Doctor Freud.”

            Nervous laugh. “Yeah. Right?” He cleared his throat.

            “It’s okay, Calum. You’ll figure everything out.”

            He nodded. “Yeah. Man…I’m not going to see him for four days.”

            “You’ll be okay.”

            “I wish I had his phone number.”

            “I think that would be awkward.”

            He hadn’t really thought about it but…yeah. Actually, it would. Especially now. If they had a conversation today over text it would be the weirdest thing in the world. They couldn’t talk about last night because they needed to talk about that in person. But they couldn’t talk about anything else because all they would want to talk about is last night. Their relationship was a bunch of broken circles. “You’re right. I have to wait. Again.”

            “It’s fine, Cal. He has to wait too.”

            “What if he changes his mind over the weekend? About me.”

            “Do you think _you’re_ going to change your mind?”

            “Absolutely not.”

            “Then he won’t either.”

            He nodded. “Okay.”

            “Okay. Can I go back to sleep now?”

            Calum laughed softly. “Yes. I’m sorry. Thank you for helping me.”

            “I didn’t do a single thing.”

            “You were there. That’s all.”

            “Calum you’re going mushy on me.”

            “It’s not my fault. It’s his.”

            Peter paused for a second. He groaned. “I really wish you didn’t have to wait. I want you to see him again. Even your voice has changed. You sound light.”

            Calum blushed. “Oh. Well…I wish I didn’t have to wait either.”

            “Yeah. Okay okay. I need to go. I’m dead.”

            “All right. Bye, Peter.”

            “Don’t die of thought while I’m away. See you later.”

            He laughed. “Lovely.”

            He went back into his dormroom and sat on his bed, staring at his dark phone screen. He looked up suddenly to see Brent staring at him.

            He jumped. “Jesus, Brent! What the hell?”

            “You’re gay?”

            Calum stiffened, ready to stand up for himself if need be. Apparently he hadn’t been as quiet as he thought and Brent heard everything. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

            Brent sniffed and rubbed his eyes. “No. I just didn’t know.”

            Calum calmed down. “Oh. Well, yeah.”

            “Just don’t bring him back here, okay? I can tell you guys are going to get serious soon and I don’t need to see it.” He laughed through his nose, tiredly.

            Calum flushed red. First of all, he had no idea Brent was actually a nice guy. He’d always just assumed, since he was never here, that Brent was some jerkoff. But he was wrong. Second, did Brent just say he knew he and Luke were going to get serious? And he could tell just from hearing Calum talk about Luke? Wow. Calum felt so oblivious sometimes. “I won’t. Believe me, I won’t.”

            “Thank God. But it’s cool that you’re so happy. Sometimes you seem kinda dark, you know? But not lately. This Luke’s got something on you.”

            Calum smiled. “Yeah. He does.”

            “Gay couples are cute. So much more than straight couples. You guys make it look so easy. I don’t know. Sometimes I wish I was.”

            “Gay?”

            “Yeah.”

            Calum laughed. “Shut up, Brent.”

            Brent snorted laughter. “Sorry. But hey, you should definitely talk to him ASAP.”

            “Where are you coming from?”

            “I don’t even fuckin’ know.”

            “Well…thanks, man.”

            He shrugged.


	13. Just

“I knew you could do it,” Peter said, sitting down with Calum to a late breakfast in the dining hall.

            Calum raised an eyebrow. “What? Make it four days?”

            Peter nodded. “I thought that you might get too far in yourself like you tend to do and overthink everything, but you made it.” He gave Calum a thumbs-up.

            Calum poured milk over his cereal. “It was hard. I can’t stop thinking about him. Peter, I’m going to see him in less than an hour. What am I going to say?” He picked up his spoon and took a bite. It was cardboard compared to the breakfast Michael had made him.

            “I have no idea. I mean, you’re obviously going to talk about Thursday night.”

            “Mhm.”

            “About what you did.”

            “Yeah.”

            “About what that means for you two.”

            “Yep.”

            “About how you could possibly want to move ahead.”

            “Yep.”

            “How you want to sleep with him.”

            “Ri—” He breathed in his food. Choking, regaining his composure, he put his spoon down and rested his hands on the edge of the table. “Pete.”

            “Am I incorrect?”

            Calum clicked his teeth, looking around. “I haven’t thought about it.”

            Peter rolled his eyes. “That’s a lie. An unconscious lie, but a lie.”

            Calum took a deep breath.

            “I’ve only seen him up close in a headshot but let me guess. His eyes—you constantly look at his eyes. He has broad shoulders so I bet you imagine what they look like shirtless. And—oh, right. His hands. Oh, yeah. I bet you look at his hands and his fingers and think about what he’ll—”

            “Stop!” Calum almost shouted. He looked around again, bright red, hoping no one was listening. He lowered his head a little. “I thought you didn’t want to think about details, Peter,” Calum whispered harshly.

            Peter smirked at him. “Just saying. I know you’ve thought about it.”

            Calum sighed. “Maybe I have.”

            “And you _do_ want to.”

            Calum shook his head, not answering. “You’re my best friend, Peter, but I don’t think this should be a topic for us.”

            “No, I agree. It’s something you have to mention to him. Well, he’ll probably mention it to you.”

            Calum rubbed his face. “Oh, man. What’s happening.”

            “You’re tumbling.”

            “Tumbling?”

            “Yeah. Not quite falling yet. But almost.”

            Calum sighed again. “Right.”

            “I usually am.”

            Calum rolled his eyes.

            “Now eat so you can get on your bus and go see him.”

            Calum did as Peter said.

 

…

 

Calum got to the lecture hall a few minutes early. He had his headphones in, listening to All Time Low, when he pulled open the door and stepped inside.

            The hall was completely empty, save for Luke pacing the front by the board. He heard the door open and looked up, freezing in place, seeing Calum standing there. He smoothed his shirt and waved.

            Calum took out his headphones, rolling them and putting them in his backpack as he walked up to Luke. “Did I miss something?”

            “I cancelled class.” Luke looked like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Calum thought about what Peter had said and tried to push it out of his mind.

            “I didn’t get an email.”

            “I went through the roster and sent it to everyone but you.”

            “Is that even allowed?”

            “I don’t know.”

            They just looked at each other for a moment.

            All at once, Calum wanted to just step forward and kiss Luke as hard as he could. Screw it if someone came in here by accident. Luke looked amazing and his eyes and his hands and… But he also looked really anxious. Nervous. Scared. Calum understood that Luke had done this so they could have all the time they needed to talk to each other. He calmed himself down.

            “So I guess we’re here to talk,” he said.

            Luke swallowed and nodded. “Well…if you wanted to go to my office, we could do that too. I just…wanted time.”

            “Sure. I like your office. It’s comfortable. In multiple ways.”

            Luke nodded again. “Okay.”

 

They were in their respective positions on the couches, like always.

            Neither of them knew how to start.

            Calum could tell how uncomfortable Luke was. Luke looked like he had a million things running through his mind right now. And Calum did too, but Calum had been right—the tables turned, and their positions switched. Calum was more confident now, and Luke was entirely out of place. Maybe they should begin with something less touchy.

            “So, Feldmann is in two weeks. That’s crazy,” Calum said.

            Luke tried to hide his relief. “I know. I’m excited to see you and Michael. We still have that last practice on Thursday though.”

            Calum nodded. “Right. Do they do the same pairings?”

            “No. Different ones than last time. For variety, I suppose.”

            “Right. Makes sense.”

            “Yeah. I got paired with Ashton once, for the first practice I think. God, he crushed me.”

            Calum smiled. “Like if they’d paired me with Michael. Would’ve been just the same.”

            “You’re even better than you think, Calum.”

            “But Michael is even better than that.”

            Luke shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll see how it goes on Thursday.” He gave Calum the first smile of the day, and Calum was more than happy to return it. The air cleared.

            Calum took a deep breath. “We need to talk about it.”

            Luke nodded quickly. “I know.”

            “What you said. About how you feel about me. Do you still feel that way?”

            Luke looked at his hands. “Of course.”

            “Okay. So do I. More so, I think.”

            Luke looked up at him, some strange expression of disbelief on his face, as if he couldn’t believe Calum could really feel that way about him. “Oh.”

            Calum nodded. “Do you regret what happened?”

            “Never.”

            Calum suppressed a grin. He liked that he was directing this conversation. He liked that Luke’s brief answers said more than full sentences ever could. “And neither do I. So then…you want to continue? With this?” He drew his finger between the two of them.

            Luke nodded. “Yes. I do.”

            But now came the hard part. “Are you worried?”

            Luke rubbed his eyes, and to Calum it made him look younger. “Yes. I’m so worried. I don’t want anything to happen to you. And I want to make sure that this is completely mutual and that I’m not somehow forcing—”

            “It is. I promise.”

            “Okay. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

            “You could lose your job.”

            Luke waved his hand in the air: _Whatever_. “You could get kicked out of football and maybe even the school and I don’t know how that might affect you later. I’m set. I have the life I have. But you’re still getting there and I don’t want to fuck it up.”

            Calum thought for a while. One, these were real concerns but he didn’t think it could be all that hard to hide this. Look at Ashton and Michael. Two, Luke _really_ cared about him: his intelligence, his career, his happiness, his well-being. Everything. It made his heart too big for his chest.

            “I’m a little worried too. But…I think we can do this. I think it’s going to work out. If we try. And if we’re careful. As much as I want to just _go_ , I know that I can’t because it’s dangerous.”

            “Go?” Luke asked, a blush creeping up his neck.

            Calum smiled and looked away. “Yeah. But we can’t.”

            Luke glanced over at the lock on the door to his office. _No. It’s not safe. He’s right. Just…_ “Would you maybe want to stay at my place this weekend?” His heart was beating out of his chest. He couldn’t believe he’d just said that. Oh God. He wasn’t ready. Maybe Calum wasn’t even ready. What if Calum said no? He was asking too much, too soon. Too fast. Oh Jesus…

            “All right. I would like that.”

            _Really?_ “You would?”

            “Yes.”

            “And you’re not…you don’t think—”

            “I think it’s the perfect idea.” He smiled softly at Luke.

            Luke blinked a few times. “Um…okay.”

            “Friday’s a holiday,” Calum said, and grinned.

            Luke blushed. “Oh that’s…a coincidence.”

            “Mhm.”

            “So after Thursday’s practice…”

            “I’ll bring a bag.”

            Luke wanted to lie down and stare at the ceiling and let everything wash away from his body and mind so he could just think about what just happened. “Okay.”

            “Okay. Good.”

            _Good. He said good. He thinks staying with me for three days is good._

            “That actually went faster than I thought.” Calum looked at the clock, then back at Luke, who wasn’t saying anything. He looked dumbfounded. “Well…I’m excited.”

            Luke looked at him, eyes wide. “For staying with me?”

            Calum laughed. “Yes.”

            “Are we…going to…?”

            Calum stood, shaking his head and laughing quietly, pulling on his backpack. He liked that Luke couldn’t say it. He stood in front of him, Luke’s face at the level of his belly button. “If you want to.”

            Luke stared up at him. He nodded.

            Calum wanted to lean down and kiss Luke. Well, he wanted more than that, but kissing Luke was a reasonable action right now. But he didn’t. He also wanted to wait.

            Luke’s collar had folded under itself. Calum reached out and fixed it. Luke swallowed, turning his face from Calum’s hand.

            “You need to iron your shirts,” Calum said.

            Luke blinked. “I don’t have an iron.”

            “Buy one. I’m going to head to practice early. I’ll see you Thursday, Luke.” Luke started to reach his arms up to Calum but Calum turned and went to the door. “Have a good day,” he said.

            Luke’s voice came out raspy. “Okay.”

            Calum smiled at him and left.

            Luke sat there, unmoving. What just happened? Calum was coming to stay at his apartment for three days. What were they going to even do? Well, Calum had said that if he wanted to… He did want to. But he was scared. And he needed to clean his kitchen. And his bedroom. They were just going to sit and talk about nothing and Luke wanted that more than anything but he didn’t want to be awkward. He was going to be awkward. But he didn’t think Calum would. Maybe he’d figure out a way to be comfortable. He wanted to be there—not just physically but really _there_ , to see Calum and speak to Calum and hear Calum and be with Calum. All he wanted was to be there with Calum. That would be enough. Anything above that was silver lining. He hoped there would be a lot of silver lining.

            He considered calling Ashton, but then he realized he wanted to wait to tell Ashton in person. He stood up, put his hands on his face and shook his head really hard. When he stopped, he was still in his office, not awake in his bed from some dream. He got his bag from the couch and decided he was going to go home and get everything ready early. Work didn’t matter for the next two days—just preparation. And then for the three days after that, just Calum.

 

…

 

“This is going to be absolutely fantastic,” Ashton said.

            “Calum’s going to crush it,” Luke replied, nodding.

            “Ah, but Michael doesn’t even have to try.”

            They were in the audience in Feldmann.

            Luke glanced sideways at Ashton. “Calum’s catching up. I’d say he’s nearly there.”

            “I’d agree.”

            They both smiled.

            The judge spoke to the boys, who were standing up at their individual podiums at the final practice on Thursday, paired by chance. “Now, today, as in the last practice, we’ll be allowing you to choose your sides. Just know that in the final competition you will be designated pro or con. Here’s your topic: the concept of a just, utopian nation typically revolves around government and degree of freedom of the people. Debate whether you believe government is an essential factor or a negative influence upon a just society. You’re free to discuss your positions.”

            Before Calum could even turn to talk to Michael about it, Michael said, “I’ll be taking pro—for government. I’m happy to go first.”

            _Great,_ Calum thought. But he knew he shouldn’t have thought Michael would give him any sort of chance at winning. Michael knew what side he wanted, and by God he was going to have it. At least Calum would be speaking last. Calum wasn’t even mad. He should be that confident. Oh well. Next year. “Of course. I’ll be con.”

            “Very good. It works the same as always and will be the same at the final. You have five minutes to prepare your points, and will have five more to prepare your rebuttal after two rounds. Good luck. Your time begins now.”

            They both began writing notes.

            “Ash! That was our topic,” Luke whispered.

            “I know. How crazy is that?”

“I mean…remember when we were doing that? Was that freshman or sophomore year we got paired?”

            “Sophomore I think. I remember winning.”

            Luke snorted. “Yeah. So do I.” He wiggled his legs a bit. “I’m so excited.”

            “Like I said—gonna be great.”           

Luke looked over at Ashton. Ashton brought his hand up to adjust his hat. Luke noticed something. “Did you help Michael dye his hair today, Ash?” he asked, knowing it probably wasn’t the case.

            Ashton had red dye staining the creases in his hands. He glanced up at Michael’s newly red hair, then back at his hands, pressing his lips together, trying not to laugh, and folding his palms in his lap. “Sure. Let’s say that.” He glanced sideward at Luke, who raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. Ashton sighed. “It’s his birthday.”

            “Yeah?” Luke loved that Ashton got shy when he talked about Michael. He still thought Michael and Ashton had one of the best relationships he’d ever seen. He paused, tilting his head. “You give him anything?”

            Ashton shook his head and giggled quietly, blushing. “Everything he asked for.”

            Luke let out a bark of a laugh that resounded all too loudly through the auditorium. He lowered his head, hoping no one was looking at him and, still laughing, mumbled, “Well, I’ll be sure to tell him happy birthday when we’re done.”

            “Hey, I’m not the only one who likes to put my hands in someone else’s hair.”

            Now Luke blushed, remembering Calum that night they’d kissed. Remembering what was going to be happening right when this practice ended. He looked up at Calum, watching him scrawl notes for a moment. He looked back at Ashton. “I should tell you something.”

            “What? Did something else happen?”

            Luke licked his lips. “Not yet.”

            “What do you mean?”

            Luke looked around. Of course, no one was listening. Still, he leaned even closer to Ashton, lowering his voice further. “He’s…staying with me this weekend. Right when practice is over.”

            Ashton’s mouth dropped open. “Luke!” he barely whispered. “So you finally talked.”

            Luke nodded. “On Tuesday.”

            “You didn’t tell me.”

            “I wanted to wait until I was standing—sitting—in front of you. I don’t know.”

            Ashton shook his head. “That’s, what…three nights? Four?”

            “He’ll probably go on Sunday. So three.”

            “Still. What are you going to do? Do you think you’ll, you know?”

            “That’s…sort of why I invited him. Well, I mean, no that sounds bad. I wanted to just spend time with him. _Be_ with him. But I also want to.”

            “Of course you do.”

            Luke nodded. Yes. He did want to be with Calum in the closest way possible. And Calum had said that if he wanted to then they could. It had been a long time for Luke. He couldn’t even imagine how Calum would—

            “Don’t think of it now,” Ashton said.

            Luke shifted in his seat. “I’m not.”

            “I can see it in your face.”

            “I didn’t even blink.”

            “You got the stare, Luke. All the way through that wall over there and out into the horizon. Don’t think of it. Wait until it happens.”

            Luke sighed. “He’s so young. What’ll he be like?”

            Ashton smiled. “Well, if he’s anything like Michael.”

            Luke blushed again. “I don’t think he is. Maybe stamina wise. But not…God. What am I even saying?”

            “It’s so great how awkward you are. You’re awkward and he’s shy. That’s perfect. You have such a weightless thing between the two of you.”

            “As opposed to?”

            “Michael and I are constantly heavy. That sounds funny, like I’m only talking about sex, but I mean really all the time. Heavy in a way that everything is tactile and everything has density. I can feel him around the corner, closing in on me, whenever he’s there. Any time we’re together we are metaphorically right on top of each other. He knows what I’m thinking and I know what he’s thinking and some days we won’t say a word to each other but we’ll know exactly what’s going on in our heads and between us. But you’ll be sitting on your couch and Calum will suddenly come up behind you and you’ll smile and never even know what hit you. And you’ll talk all the time and sometimes it’ll be about nothing but sometimes it’ll be really important and yet it will be light. You’re unbearably light. Michael and I are constantly charged while you and Calum are perpetually smooth, even with your awkward rough patches. Michael and I are obsidian; you and Calum are vapor. I mean…it’s pretty wonderful.”

            Luke chewed his lip out of habit. He looked up at Calum again. He was nodding down at his sheet of paper, preparing his argument in his mind. “Oh. How do you know?”

            “It’s just in you. You simply are.”

            “You make it sound a cleaner thing than it is.”          

            “You’ll get there. You two are weird right now because you got cut off. You’re momentum was broken, but you’re going to get it back tonight.”

            Luke swallowed. “Tonight.”

            Ashton nodded. “I’d think so.”

            “Oh.”

            “Do you hope so?”

            Calum suddenly looked up, catching Luke’s eye. He smiled and looked back down at his notes.

            Luke felt something hot bloom in his stomach, then condense and radiate cold out into his fingertips, making his skin raise in goosebumps. He hugged himself. “Yes. I hope so.”

            “Well, then. I only have one thing to say.”

            “Time,” the judge said, putting up his hand.

            Michael and Calum looked up.

            “What’s that?” Luke asked.

            Michael took a moment to meet Ashton’s gaze. And Ashton spoke to both his lover and his best friend: “Make it happen.”

 

The first two rounds of their debate—where they gave their points on the topic—flew by in an instant. It was clear that Michael and Calum were neck and neck, fighting to get ahead of each other. Michael had given his two points that government is good because it brings order and stability to a society and its systems—economical, judicial, whatever. He’d brought up Plato’s _Republic_ as one of his examples, thinking back to one of the earliest manuscripts on a just city, impressing both Luke and, Luke thought, the judges. Calum had given his two points that lack of government is good because it allows for decision making by the people without the overarching influence of an individual or group of individuals that may have ulterior motives. He’d used Switzerland’s government as an example—a country where all the people form consensus on policy initiatives directly. It was a good choice. Luke was proud of him, as always.

            And now Luke was sure they’d both reverse their arguments for the rebuttal, explaining not why their side was good, but why the other side was bad. That was the way he would have done it.

            The judge called time on their five minutes for rebuttal notes. Calum looked over and gave Michael a smile. Luke thought it was sweet—yes, they were competing, but that didn’t make them enemies. Michael did not return the smile, only stepped up to the podium, adjusting his shirt.

“He’s not trying to be mean,” Ashton whispered. “He’s just under the curtain. He doesn’t leave until he’s done for good.”

            “I understand.” Still, he felt protective of Calum. But he knew Michael was a good guy. He sat on his hands so he wouldn’t fuss with them.

            Michael put his hands together, lacing his fingers, and rested them on the podium.

            “What my opponent describes—what is found in countries like Switzerland or even communities like ancient Athens—is known as a direct democracy. The issue with this is that a direct democracy may not have a president or a congress like a representative democracy, but it is still a form of government, albeit a loose one that does, as he stated, include the people in all decisions. But what might happen if no final decisions on foreign policy or law or domestic affairs were made by any form of group? What might a nation be like if every individual decided they had free reign over themselves and every action they took and decision they made?

            “The term defined as complete lack of government is anarchy.”

            Ashton was nodding. Luke knew that was a good line—it was completely factually correct, but it also made the audience think about all the other things that were associated with the word.

            “What connotations exist of this term?”

            _There it is_ , Luke thought.

            “Disorder. Chaos. Bedlam. Mayhem.” He paused, and Luke was jealous of the tactic that he liked to use. Michael did it better. He had a better face for it. “Anarchy.

            “The spectrum, at its ends, is easy to define. One end, with total government,” he put his left hand out at a right angle, “provides ultimate order and safety, and the least amount of freedom. The other end, with no government at all,” now his right hand, “provides endless individual freedom but fails to create any form of order and has no resources to provide the people with anything, much less safety. Anarchy is, in essence, utter disorder. For a just nation to be a possibility, a government…”

            Luke’s mind started tuning out. He sat there, thinking about how soon it was until he was entirely alone with Calum, with no chance of someone coming in and catching them, no chance of the rain falling through the window and stopping things. He was staring at Calum, but he didn’t realize it.

            Things, scenes, moments, flashed through Luke’s mind. Himself kneeling over Calum like he’d imagined back when he’d first talked to Ashton about Michael. Calum sitting on his couch, clicking through channels on the TV, looking up and smiling when Luke said his name. Luke waking up, rolling over in his bed to find Calum’s face right in front of his, eyes closed and cheek squished against the pillow. Calum standing in front of Luke’s bedroom window at night, silhouetted by the moonlight, looking out into the world, and Luke saying his name again so Calum would turn around and come back to him.

            None of it was real. Not yet. But he could make it that way, if he tried hard enough. Or maybe if he simply stopped trying and let himself go.

            “Hey.” Ashton nudged him. “Stop it.”

            Luke blinked. “What.”

            “Michael’s done.”

            “Oh.” He’d spaced out completely, missing the entire second half of Michael’s argument. Well, he was sure it was amazing.

            And now it was Calum’s turn. Luke sat up straighter, as if it could help him hear Calum better. Calum stepped up to the podium, looked at his notes for a moment, and began.

            “In 1949, a man named George Orwell wrote an apprisal for the world.”

 _He isn’t,_ Luke thought. _Jesus, he is. Where does he come up with this stuff? How does he think so fast?_

            “He warned of a government both omniscient and omnipotent, of a nation that was oppressively ruled and horrifyingly punished if any of such rules were broken. This nation was Oceania, this government was the Party, headed by one Big Brother. This apprisal was _1984_.”

            Luke was in love. He was absolutely in love. He was in love with Calum’s mind and Calum’s incredible abilities. That was an amazing introduction. This was something everyone knew, something everyone understood and agreed with on one point—it was awful. _1984_ was literally the perfect example; he wished he’d thought of it five years ago. Luke couldn’t have thought of a better one himself. Luke understood completely now how Ashton had so easily fallen into Michael’s grip. This was what he had felt.

            “We know the story: one of bourgeoisie versus proletariat—a government that has brainwashed the people into believing that free thought, free will, and expression of individuality are intolerable through the use of propaganda and all-encompassing conformity. A man breaks from the mold and comes to hate the Party, and believes more and more in a radical group whose aim is to overthrow the government. The man is caught, tortured, and further brainwashed. In the end, he succumbs to the power of the Party and immerses back into the life of the everyday, downtrodden citizen, rewired to love the government that controls him.

            “Now, this certainly isn’t the sort of government that exists today, but the warning remains clear. Orwell didn’t believe that thirty-five years following the publication of his novel the world would be ruled by Big Brother. He simply put out the proclamation that a state like his could easily become reality if man did not become aware of the assaults on his personal freedom by an oppressive governmental form, particularly totalitarianism. Orwell’s novel warns against complacency of man under rule by a party that has vast if not total control over all decision-making. It warns against governments that consider themselves—or are even _given_ by the people enough power to decide all policy, and control anyone beneath them.

            “It isn’t as if governments that suppressed the people have never existed. Consider one of the prime examples: Communist Russia, or the Soviet Union, in which a dictatorial superstructure, a failure to maintain political relations both in and out of the country, and a lack of ability to successfully apply policies and provide an adequate standard of living for the people caused the eventual total collapse of the government itself.”

            Luke wanted to start clapping already. This was fantastic.

            “Or consider a form of government existing within a presently-governed nation: Hitler’s Nazi Regime, which we all know persecuted, suppressed, and killed a countless number of races and identities, including the Jewish, Poles and Slavs, homosexuals, dissenting clergy members, Soviet prisoners of war, Communists, Socialists, and even people with disabilities. Hitler’s was another totalitarian dictatorship which ultimately failed.”

            Luke wanted desperately to stand up and applaud his student. Calum was incredible.

            Calum casually flipped his notes over. His stage manner made Luke want to take him home right this second. If only he could stay in that mood once this was over.

            “Complete lack of government does come with its disadvantages, but that is the fault of individuals, not the system—or lack thereof. The issues surrounding what we might call ‘too much’ government are far more prominent. When power is put into the hands of a few people as compared to the remaining entirety of the country, decisions are bound to be made, policies bound to be put in place, that disagree with a general opinion. These are the kinds of things that lead to both civil and international war, to social and economic collapse, and to the failure of the government and the nation.”

            He stepped back to his place.

            He’d left off a closing sentence— _This is why governments are detrimental to the creation of a just nation_ —or something like that. And to Luke, it made it all the more effective. He gave the audience space to think, space to realize for themselves what the consequences he presented really meant.

            Calum had done an amazing job.

            Luke looked over at Ashton, and Ashton gave him a smile. Luke’s heart swelled with pride. He couldn’t wait until Calum got down from the stage.

            The judges spoke to each other for a few minutes, writing a few things down. The middle judge who had given the topic looked up. “Mr. Clifford, is this your first time preparing for this competition?”

Michael nodded. “Yes sir.”

            “You too, Mr. Hood?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “And you’re both sophomores.”

            They nodded, glancing at each other.

            The judge shook his head. “Okay. Well, we really only have a few notes then. Michael— _Republic_. Very nice. Linked perfectly with the idea of a just city. Calum, you could have focused a little more on that in your rebuttal. But…Orwell?” He shook his head again, clicking his pen a few times. “Great. Michael, delineating a representative versus a pure democracy—also great. Calum, Soviet Russia. Dictatorial superstructure? Really just…very good.”

            Luke thought all the very same things. Even those two words Calum had used. It was as if Michael and Calum had majored in every topic they ever talked about, they seemed to know that much.

            “Michael, you could have taken the idea of governmental collapse and run with it, because Calum, governmental collapse leading to disorder and the fall of a nation would actually be against your side.”

            Right. Calum thought he could have worked through that logic a little better. Thank goodness he’d been last or Michael probably _would_ have run with it, all the way to the finish line.

            Both boys nodded again.

            “Otherwise, um…wow. Thank you, gentlemen. You actually remind us of a pair that were here a long time ago—your age. They teach now.”

            They glanced at each other again, then out to their teachers, who were both buzzing with pride and grinning over at them.

            “Thank you, sir,” Michael said.

            “Of course. Anyway, very good job. We’re all looking forward to seeing you two at the final.” The judge gave a little nod and both of the boys lit up, returning their own small thank yous.

             They were the final pair of the night, so they came right off the stage to the audience as everyone else made their way out to the parking lot to get picked up by friends or to drive themselves back to their dorms or apartments. Luke and Ashton walked out of their seats into the aisle to meet their boys. They all walked out into the foyer of Feldmann, not speaking.

            When they got to the foyer they tucked themselves into a corner and allowed themselves to freak out. Calum immediately hugged Luke as hard as he could. Ashton glanced around for a moment, making sure the coast was clear, before planting a kiss on Michael’s forehead. Calum turned and gave Michael one of those sideways high fives—they gripped each other’s hands and shook them, showing their teeth.

            Michael laughed and said, “I’m not sure I won this time around.”

            Calum shook his head. “I still think you did.”

            “It’s too close to tell.”

            Luke and Ashton exchanged looks that said they were ecstatic that Calum and Michael were such good friends.

            “Hey,” Calum said, remembering. “Why don’t you put your number in my phone? We should meet up sometime.”

            “All right.” Michael did.

            Ashton looked at Luke, cocking his head to the side at the boys who were paying no attention to their teachers at the moment. Ashton thought at him, _You get Calum’s number yet?_

Luke shook his head. _No._

Ashton raised his eyebrows _. You should._

Luke crossed his arms. _Too nervous._

            Ashton rolled his eyes. _This weekend._

Luke looked away, back to Calum.

            “Cool,” Calum said, putting his phone away.

            “You both were fantastic. Really, you’re doing so well. You might be better than we were back in the day,” Ashton said.

            “Uh, definitely better than I was,” Luke said, looking into Calum’s eyes. Calum gave him a small smile. He blushed and looked down. He was getting really nervous again. It was very soon that he would be taking Calum back to his place for three days straight. Three days, and three nights.

            Ashton said, “Calum, you seemed really comfortable up there tonight. It’s like every time we see you you’ve leveled up a few times since the last.”

            Michael nodded.

            Calum laughed. “Leveled up. I like that. Thank you. I guess tonight I just…feel really good.”

            Ashton nodded at him, making it clear that he knew exactly what was going on. Michael raised an eyebrow at Ashton, questioning, making his piercing shift and glint in the light. Ashton gave him a quick look and said quietly, just in case, “I understand. Michael and I are feeling it too. We’re so lucky, we get to spend the _whole weekend together_.”

            Michael closed his eyes and nodded, knowing, smiling faintly.

            Calum blushed, but he was brilliantly happy. He loved that Ashton and Michael were like a distorted mirror of he and Luke—the same, but different. He loved that Ashton and Michael always knew what was going on with them. And he loved that they supported it so well. Of course they did—it was them.

            Luke, on the other hand, was dying. He knew that everybody knew what was going on. Why was he the only one that felt so awkward about it? He wished he could just get over himself and throw his everything into this thing he had with Calum. He just wasn’t that type of person. The awkwardness would nearly always be there.

            “That is lucky,” Calum said.

            Luke coughed.

            “You okay, Luke?” Ashton asked, smirking.

            His voice came out raspy again. “Fine. Just fine.”

            “Good. I think Michael and I will be off. Have a good night, boys.”

            Michael wiggled his tongue at Calum before he turned and walked out with Ashton to his car. It took everything Calum had not to fall down laughing. Thankfully, Luke hadn’t noticed the gesture.

            Luke turned to Calum, heart racing. “Do you have your stuff?”

            “Oh yeah.” He went over to the desk where they sold tickets and pulled a Nike duffel out from behind it. “I asked if I could keep it there.” He smiled at Luke.

            Luke nodded. “Okay. Do you want to go now or?”

            Calum laughed. “What else are we going to do?”

            “Right.” This was happening. Oh lord. “Right. Okay.” He motioned with his hand. Calum shook his head and led the way.

            They got in Luke’s car and started driving.

            “What do you want to hear?” Calum asked, plugging his phone in.

            Luke shrugged. “I don’t know. Anything.”

            “Pick something.”

            Luke sighed. “Play Green Day.”

            “What song?”

            “Calum! Any song.”

            Calum giggled. “All right. Shuffle it is.”

            Calum skipped the first one—the second track from _Warning_. “Poprocks and Coke” came on next.

            “Oh, leave it,” Luke said. “I love this. This was the first album Ashton ever bought, you know? Like full album.”

            “Green Day’s the best.”

            “Yeah. You get a song like “Coming Clean” but then one like this but then one like “Hitchin’ A Ride” but then one like “On the Wagon.” I swear they’re the most versatile alt-punk band to ever exist.”

            “Are you nervous?” Calum decided to ask.

            Luke gave a weird laugh. His voice got raspy again. “Am I nervous? Can’t you see the electricity coming off me? My nerves are all over the place.”

            Calum smiled. “I’m not, really.”

            Luke sighed. He wished he wasn’t so nervous but there was no way he could fix it. “I’m going to pass out.”

            “For real?”

            “No. I just…I want this to work.”

            “It’s already working, Luke.”

            Luke glanced at him. “You think so?”

            “I’m staying with you for three days.”

            “I know you are. I can’t believe you are. I can’t believe you want to be with me for that long.”

            _And longer_. “We’re going to just relax and talk and have fun. Okay?”

            Luke nodded.

            They sat listening for a while. The song changed to “Restless Heart Syndrome”.

            “Want me to change it?” Calum asked.

            “No. It’s fine. We’re…almost there anyway.”

            Calum smiled, watching Luke try to keep his composure. “Great.”

            They arrived at Luke’s apartment just before nine. Luke unbuckled and said, “Let me get your bag.”

            “It’s fine, Luke. You don’t need to take care of me.”

            _No. It’s the other way around._ “Okay.”

            Calum got his duffel and they walked up to Luke’s apartment.

            Luke paused in front of the door, gripping his key between his fingers. _Once this door opens, everything changes. We’re no longer teacher and student. We’re just Luke and Calum, friends or whatever you want to call us. Once this door opens, we show each other how we really feel. We become vapor, weightless, light. Once this door opens…_

“Luke,” Calum said. “It’s okay. I’m here. You don’t have to worry or think about it anymore. You have me. Now.”

            _I have you. You. How? Okay. Just do it. Just…_ Luke put the key in the lock and turned.


	14. In A Dusky Grey

Luke unlocked the door to his apartment and held it open for Calum.

            “Thank you,” Calum said and stepped inside. Luke came in and closed the door behind him. Calum watched as he turned the lock and put his keys on the table by the door. Luke took his shoes off and put them next to the table. Calum’s mom always made he and his sister do that back home. He put his Vans next to Luke’s worn-in short boots, and set his bag next to them.

            “Feel free to sit wherever you like,” Luke said.

            Jesus, this was awkward. It seemed so planned, so step-by-step. Why couldn’t he be spontaneous and cinematic like Michael was with Ashton? Why couldn’t he just throw the lock and walk over and start things without a word? Why couldn’t he put the rest of the world away, disconnect completely and just be here, with Calum? He wasn’t that kind of person, he supposed. He didn’t even know if all that was what Calum wanted. Luckily, Calum just looked around with mild interest at Luke’s living space, seemingly fine.

            Calum sat down on the sofa. Luke stood a few feet away, tapping his fingers together.

            “That’s a really nice guitar,” Calum said.

            Luke looked over at the Mira hanging on the wall. “Thank you. I’ve had a few but this has been my favorite.” Calum nodded. Luke shifted between his feet. “Can I get you anything?”

            Calum smiled. “No, thank you.”

            Luke sighed and smiled nervously. He walked over and sat stiffly next to Calum. He faced his student, his friend, his equal, and swallowed hard. “I’m still nervous.”

            “Maybe I am a little, too,” Calum said, but to Luke he didn’t sound like it.

            Calum watched Luke bite his lip where the piercing used to be and tap his fingers on his knees while he tried to figure out what to do. Should he initiate? Or should he wait for Luke to? He didn’t want to wait. “Luke?”

            Luke looked up at him. Calum leaned over and kissed him tentatively. Then he pulled back a little and looked into Luke’s eyes, trying to gauge things.

            Luke’s eyes flicked back and forth, looking back into Calum’s. Calum looked calm. Calum looked ready. Calum looked beautiful. He tried to say Calum’s name but nothing much came out. But Calum understood, and he leaned forward and kissed Luke again.

            Finally Luke got to touch Calum’s face. He brought both hands up and held Calum by the jaw, running his thumbs lightly over his cheeks. The kiss was slow and kind. Calum’s lips were full and soft against his own. It was everything Luke had hoped for.

            Calum loved the way Luke held his face in his hands. And he loved the way he could feel the tip of Luke’s elfin nose on his left cheekbone. He didn’t know where to put his own hands. He needed a better way to sit, a better way to face Luke. And this time, there was no fear of hitting the window switch—no fear of this moment ending. He shifted position.

            All at once Luke felt Calum’s lips leave his. He waited a moment as Calum turned, bringing his leg up and straddling Luke in his tight black jeans. Before he could say anything, Calum gripped Luke’s hair in his fingers and kissed him again. Luke sighed and placed his hands on Calum’s hips. And when he opened his mouth and Calum slid his tongue in, he squeezed at Calum’s sides. Calum pulled gently at Luke’s hair and he tilted his head back a little further in response. Calum kissed him deeper, and Luke struggled to keep back a moan. After a few more moments, Calum slowed down. He kissed Luke lightly, once, twice. Luke began to squirm underneath him.

            “What? What is it?” Calum asked. “Do you want me to get off?”

            “No,” Luke mumbled against Calum’s mouth and kissed him again before saying, “I want to carry you to my room but…I don’t know if I can. We’re basically the same size.”

            Calum laughed softly. “It’s okay,” he said, and left Luke’s lap. He stood and put out his hand. Luke looked up at him, his face flushed and his lips swollen.

            And there, looking up at Calum, who was entirely confident and beckoning him forward, Luke had a moment to really, _truly_ realize that this was actually happening. Even when they had been discussing it before, even when Calum said that Luke had him, the fact didn’t really sink all the way in that Calum actually _wanted_ to be here with him, to do this with him. He looked at Calum. He looked at his gorgeous thick hair. He looked at his olive skin. He looked at his full lips and his shoulders and his sculpted arms and his outstretched hand. The hand for him.

            He took it.

            Calum, knowing exactly where to go in this small apartment, led Luke to the bedroom.

            He sat down on the edge of the bed. Luke went to sit next to him but before he could Calum put a hand on his chest and shook his head.

            “Try again,” he said.

            Luke, his mind racing, backed up and stood in front of Calum. He was so nervous. _So_ nervous. But Calum was here, staring up at him with huge brown eyes, waiting. And there was Ashton in the back of his mind, telling him to let go. Telling him that Michael would have just locked the door and not looked back.

            Calum grinned as Luke put his hands on his shoulders and pushed him, gently, back onto the bed, leaning over him.

            “That’s what I wanted,” he said. Luke kissed him. After a minute, Calum pulled himself all the way onto the bed and lay back. Luke crawled over him, hands and knees on either side of Calum’s body.

            Calum had a delighted, funny look on his face. “What?” Luke asked, grinning.

            “So, you definitely don’t have a partner already, then?”

            Luke laughed, turning red. “What? N-no…why?”

            “I, um…” He giggled, embarrassed. “I looked you up on Facebook a while ago. You were with another guy in your profile picture. It got me thinking. I was just wondering and never asked.”

            There was Ashton again, this time laughing in the distance. Luke laughed himself. “No! That’s Ashton.” Calum nodded. “We’ve known each other for…God, I don’t even know how long.”

            _Seven years_. “Yeah. I know all that now.” Calum thought it best that he still didn’t mention to Luke that he’d gone to see Ashton to try and get inside Luke’s head a little better. It was his little secret. So he just smiled again. “They’re cute.”

            “Ash and Michael? Nah, they’re not cute. They’re beautiful.”

            Calum nodded. “Michael’s a cool guy. And Ashton…wow. That hair. That laugh. That _hat_.”

            “Calum!”

            Calum burst into giggles. “Okay, okay.”

            “I would have told you if I was with someone. I would never cheat on anyone.”

            “That’s good to know. I’d been a bit scared. With how confident and promiscuous you seem, you know?”

            Luke shook his head. Neither of them said anything for a moment. Calum stared up at Luke, his eyes big and dark, his pupils dilated. This felt somehow familiar.

            “What is it?” Luke asked again.

            Calum put his hands up and touched Luke’s neck, shoulders, chest, dancing his fingertips along the exposed skin at his collar.

            Now Luke knew why it was familiar. This was what he had seen in his mind, that image of him and Calum that kept coming up after Ashton had first told him about Michael. This was it; exactly it. Luke didn’t think he should tell Calum.

            Right on cue, they both laughed softly. At the same time they said, “You’re really—”

            They both cut off. “What were you going to say?” Calum asked.

            “I was going to say beautiful.”

            Calum blushed. “Oh…I was going to say perfect.”

            Luke laughed, trying to hide his embarrassment. “One-up me, why don’t you?”

            Laughing too, Calum shook his head. Things were getting a bit too fluffy. He grabbed Luke around his neck and pulled him down to kiss him again.

            Here was the movie scene. Here was the perfect moment. Luke felt all the worries slowly slipping away. He felt himself melting. Or maybe it was drowning. It felt amazing. He wasn’t nervous anymore.

            He broke the kiss and tilted his head to kiss Calum’s jaw. Calum turned his head to the side and exposed his neck to Luke, who pressed closer to Calum’s pulse, just as he’d done when they’d first gotten close back in his car.

            Calum suddenly felt very hot. He moved one arm up above his head and Luke bit lightly at the apex of his neck and shoulder on the opposite side. He arched and hummed slightly. Luke paused for a moment, seeming to consider if Calum was okay. Calum started to say _Don’t stop_ but barely got out one syllable. Luke brought his hands back down to Calum’s waist and pushed them underneath Calum’s shirt. He scratched lightly at Calum’s sides, his face still buried in Calum’s neck. Calum shivered. Luke gripped the hem of the shirt and pulled it up and off.

            Now he was sitting up, kneeling over Calum. Calum now had both arms above his head, and his muscles were outlined beautifully and Luke could see the veins in his forearms. He was skinny, Luke thought at first, but that wasn’t it. Calum was _fit._ Calum was wrapped in lithe muscle all over his body. But at the moment he seemed oddly strong and delicate at the same time; he had such thin, boyish hips and a sweet puppy-dog face. Luke sighed, almost whimpered.

            “Your turn,” Calum said. Luke started to unbutton his shirt but Calum said, “Wait, wait…” Luke stopped, two buttons undone. “Do the thing like you’re fixing your cufflinks really quick. Sit up straighter…” Luke brought his left hand to his right wrist, turning his right palm up and bending his fingers a little. He was trying not to laugh. This was what Calum wanted to see? “And now just tilt your head back, just slightly…and look kinda mad.”

            He couldn’t help it. He laughed and dropped his head forward. “What is this—?”

            “Do it!” Calum said, grinning.

            Luke laughed once more and cleared his throat. He put on his most grumpy face and tilted his head back, just slightly, and sideways the tiniest bit. He looked down with his eyes at Calum.

            Calum groaned and let his head drop to the side. “You look like the cover of _Billboard_ or _GQ_.” He looked back at Luke and smiled. Luke noticed again his tongue peeking out between his teeth. God, he loved that. Calum sighed and said, “Okay. You can stop now.”

            Luke dropped his hands to his sides. “That was interesting.”

            “No. That’s the biggest turn-on in the world.”

            Luke raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Maybe I shouldn’t stop then.”

            “Take your shirt off, Luke.”

            Calum was still playful, but his eyes had closed a little and they were even darker than before. Still kneeling over Calum, with his pants starting to feel very uncomfortable, Luke did as Calum said. The shirt went to the floor, floating down to cover the SANTA CRUZ on Calum’s.

            “Belt,” Calum said.

            Luke unlooped his belt and it fell with a _chink_ to the floor with the shirts.

            “Not much left,” he said, and Calum shrugged and gave him half a smile, blinking slowly. Luke brought his hands down and ghosted his fingertips over the waistband of Calum’s jeans. All at once, he felt nervous again. Good nerves— _excited_ nerves. But nerves all the same. His heart was pounding from his chest. “Are you sure?” he said, looking at Calum. “Should I? Or do you want to—”

            “Jesus, Luke, just take them off,” Calum said softly. “Everything.”

            “Okay.” He undid the button, took the waistband of both the pants and what was underneath, backed up a little and pulled them down until Calum kicked them off the rest of the way. Luke could hardly look. Calum was certainly ready.

            And so was he. He took everything else of his carefully off while Calum watched with that half smile. When he was done, he looked into Calum’s eyes a bit more until Calum cocked his chin up and brought his arms back down by his sides, holding them up a little as if to say _Come here_. And Luke put his hands by Calum’s shoulders as Calum spread his legs, and Luke moved between them and lowered himself slowly down.

 

What light that still shone outside when they had arrived had now faded. They were skin to skin, close together in a dusky grey. Luke could feel Calum’s breath on his chin. He could smell Calum again, that same dusty cedarwood, but sharper, with more clarity. He took in a deep breath and tried not to think anymore.

            Calum thought how light Luke was. He could sense the weight of Luke’s body over his own, but it was as if Luke was gently suspended, just above him. There was no sensation of heaviness; there was no uncomfortable shortness of breath. There was only Luke, ethereal, atmospheric. He wrapped his arms around Luke’s back and gripped onto his sides. He breathed in through his teeth, waiting.

            And they moved together, slowly, in the dark. Luke would run his hands lightly along Calum’s body. Calum would tilt his hips upward and his head back. He would take Luke’s hair between his fingers. Then Luke would feel Calum’s nails on his shoulders, his fingertips on his spine. At some hazy point, they rolled over. Calum would feel Luke’s long legs gripping his hips. Luke would make a sound deep in his chest and Calum would kiss him softly.

            They were formless shapes. They were emotion incarnate. They were comfortable and they were confident and they were finally here.

            Words weren’t necessary.


	15. Lavender Haze

Luke felt his foot hit something under the covers. “Umph…” He rolled over onto his back and palmed his eyes.

            Oh, God. He’d just kicked Calum. Calum who had come home with him last night. Calum who had taken the lead and made him comfortable and at ease. Calum who had held him tightly and bent underneath him, then turned him on his back and made him tremble. Calum Hood, who had come into his life as a student, now existed in it as a friend and something even closer, and, he hoped, wouldn’t leave it any time soon.

            He flicked his eyes to his right, watching the back of Calum’s head, half covered by the sheets. Calum wasn’t stirring. Luke sighed and pushed his hair from his forehead.

            “It’s okay. I was already awake.” Calum’s voice was muffled by the sheets but wasn’t thick with sleep. He sounded awake and calm.

            Starting the day with embarrassment. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. “Oh…I’m sorry. I do that in my sleep sometimes.”

            Calum rolled over to face him. He settled back into the covers, the sheets coming up to his cheeks. He looked up at Luke. “Sometimes I snore, so we’re even.”

            “I didn’t hear anything,” Luke said.

            Calum yawned. So maybe he was still a little sleepy, Luke thought. It was adorable. “Maybe I was just too tired from everything.”

            Luke blushed. “Me too.”

            Calum closed his eyes and smiled. He hummed a bit of music, something that Luke didn’t recognize. Then he sighed and brought his hands up to rub his eyes. He blinked a few times and laid his arms down in front of him, fingers almost touching Luke’s ribs.

            “How are you?” Luke asked.

            “Heavy,” Calum said.

            Luke quirked a smile at him. “What do you mean?”

            “I feel full—my body, I mean. And I feel like I’m weighted down into this bed. I feel like I’ve made some indentation here that would never rub out.”

            _That’s for sure_ , Luke thought. _Even when you’re gone, you’ll still be right there. Don’t ever stay away for too long, okay?_

            “Hmm,” he said, unable to say anything else.

            “But also light. So light. That doesn’t make sense but I feel like I’m not all together. My individual molecules are spacing out.”

            “Light.” Exactly what Ashton had said.

            After a moment, Calum said, “It was really nice.”

            Luke’s heart jumped into his throat. So they were going to talk about it. Oh boy. He knew there were two ways this could go with him: either he would freeze up entirely, or he would vomit words everywhere and scare Calum away forever. He swallowed the lump. Something simple. Something…

            “It was.” Well, he supposed that was good enough.

            Calum looked up at him. He wanted to drape his arm across Luke’s chest and pull himself close. He wanted to trail his mouth along Luke’s body and climb onto him. But he didn’t think that was what Luke wanted. Well, actually, he did think Luke wanted that, but he didn’t think Luke could do it right now. He thought Luke was too uncomfortable. Maybe Luke was regretting things. He pulled the covers down to his neck, away from his face. “How are _you_?” he asked.

            “I feel…” and Luke shook a little, wiggling his body around.

            Calum laughed. Luke was definitely uncomfortable, but he was happy. Not regretful. That was good. “I feel a little like that too, now that I’m really waking up.”

            Luke turned his head to the side and realized how close he was to Calum. They were inches apart. Calum blinked his huge brown eyes at him.

            Luke’s id lunged forward and took over for just a second. It brought his hand forward and pushed Calum’s hair from his eyes. It made him sit up a little, lean over, and kiss Calum gently. It made him pull back and stare at Calum’s face.

            Then his ego came through and shut the id back away in its cage in the depths of his mind. He leaned back again and sat up a little, propping his pillow behind his head and shoulders.

            “Now I _really_ feel like that,” Calum said, and he understood that what Luke had just done wasn’t as easy as it seemed—not as easy as it would have been for him to do, anyway. For Luke, that was a lot; and now he looked tired again. So Calum said, “Remember when we talked about the end of the world?”

            Luke nodded, smiling a little but looking at the wall.

            “Remember that last thing you drew on the board? All the little dots—stardust, you called it?”

            Luke nodded again.

            “I think maybe that’s how we both feel. I think we’ve both gone supernova and now we’re drifting around, initial forms of ourselves, ready to create.”

            Luke’s chest hitched and he turned to look down at Calum. He drew in a shaky breath. And he nodded.

            “Smile, Luke.”

            Luke heaved out a sigh and smiled—a true, sorry smile that glinted from his ocean eyes.

            Calum felt like he was the teacher now. And he wasn’t even that experienced, but Luke was lost at sea. “I know this is weird,” he said. “Believe me, it’s just as weird for me, too. But…I’ve thought about this a lot. And I know you have. We’ve even talked about it and…well, it doesn’t feel _wrong_. It feels weird, but it doesn’t feel wrong. To me, anyway. Does it feel wrong to you?”

            Luke thought for a moment, and Calum waited patiently.

            Yes, it was weird. Yes, it was insane. Calum should be in his own bed, sleeping soundly for however many more hours until he woke up naturally and went about his day. Calum was his student, and the number of rules that had been broken over the past month or so was indeterminable. But it did feel right. _It does,_ he thought. _And if it feels like it’s right, then_ …

            “No,” he said. “It can’t be wrong. It just isn’t.”

            Calum nodded, tucking his legs up a little.

            Luke put his hands behind his head and sighed once more. To say it out loud like that was cathartic. He felt calm now. He felt comfortable and transparent. It was beautiful. And he said, “How did we end up here?”

            Calum laughed. “I think it happened when I hit the register button for your class.”

            Luke shook his head, laughing through his nose. “And what did we do last night?”

            “Now that, I can’t recall. It’s all a lavender haze.”

            “What should we do about it?”

            Calum groaned. “Any more questions, Luke? It’s morning. I’m not ready to think.”

            “Actually, one more,” Luke said, sitting up a little more and looking down at him with his eyes. “Tell me this. You say you like Ashton’s hair and his laugh—”

            “Luke, I was kidding around!”

            Luke side-smiled, producing his one dimple. “You were and you weren’t. He’s a good-looking guy. But…well…what do you like about me?”

            Calum thought for a while, staring up at the ceiling. Quietly, he sang, “ _What I like about you…_ ” Luke smiled; he liked that song—it was wicked to play with the volume all the way up. Actually, he thought it might make a good song for the fundraiser he’d so randomly invited Calum to do with him—something everybody knew. He’d have to mention it later.

            Eventually, Calum said, “I like…your shoulders.”

            “My shoulders.” Luke frowned and smiled at the same time. “You like my shoulders.”

            “I love your shoulders.” He propped himself up on his elbow to face Luke.

            “Is that it?”

            “No. I also like your hair and your laugh. I like the way your nose crinkles up when you laugh. You look like a little bunny.”

            “No! What?” And, of course, he laughed.

            “Yeah. Just like that. And your eyes are like that water that’s really shallow over a sandbar, seen from a thousand feet up. And you grow a great beard. I wish I could grow a beard.” He reached up and very lightly, briefly, drew the back of his finger along Luke’s jaw. “I like that we like the same music. I like that you put your hair forward and up like that. I like your chin. I like that dimple on your right smile. I like that you used to have a lip ring.”

            Luke put his hand over his eyes. “Oh, God. You noticed?”

            “I noticed on that first day.”

            “Oh no…”

            “I wish I could see you with it. Even just a picture.”

            “Really?”

            Calum nodded. “I like your face, I like your chest, I like your back and your legs. I guess I’ve never really seen your feet but I’d probably like those too.”

            Luke was getting embarrassed. “You can stop now if you want.”

            “Your hands…I really like your hands.”

            “My…” Luke brought his hands up. There was nothing special. Was there?

            “I like your voice—how deep it is when you’re either serious or joking and how raspy it gets when you’re nervous.” Luke made some noise of protest but Calum kept going. “I like that you teach me no matter where we are or what we’re doing. I like that you’re so kind to me. I like that you’ve dragged me into this knowledge vortex and I’m becoming an academic like you. I like that you make me feel smart.”

            “You are smart, Calum.”

            “I know.” He lay back down and rested his head in the crook of Luke’s shoulder. “I know that because of you. And…I really love your shoulders.”

            Luke wrapped his arm under Calum’s neck and placed his hand lightly on his back. He didn’t know what to say. He was just some guy…he’d never been told anything like that before. “Thank you,” he said, and it came out in a raspy whisper.

            “Mmm,” Calum replied. “And me?”

            “Oh, Jesus, Calum. How am I supposed to follow that?”

            “And I also love your words,” Calum said.

            “I…” Luke sighed. Here it was again. Maybe he was good at debate. Maybe he was good at speaking when he was being a teacher. But unless he was with Ashton who for some reason didn’t make him nervous, the rest of the time when he wasn’t in class or on stage, speaking was like trying to build a sand castle way too high up on the shore where the tide didn’t reach. Everything, all the words, just kept falling apart and trickling away into a dry, witless heap. He just didn’t know what to say.

            “You like my jaw,” Calum offered. “That’s for sure.”

            Luke looked down at Calum again. His head was still on his shoulder and his eyes were closed. Yes, he really did like Calum’s jaw. By God, Calum’s jawline could cut diamonds.

            “I do,” Luke said. “And I like your arms. Your eyebrows.”

            Calum laughed through his nose, his eyes squinting further shut. Luke felt Calum’s body shake a little and his abs tighten against his side. “You like my eyebrows?”

            “Is that any weirder than my shoulders?”

            Calum’s eyes opened in clarity for a second, then slid closed again. “I suppose not.”

            They lay in silence for a while. Eventually, Luke looked over at the clock. It was 9:45. “Oh my God. We’re going to be so late.” He started to sit up.

            “What?” Calum mumbled, and then— “It’s a holiday, Luke, remember?”

            “Wh…” He sighed and flopped back onto the bed. “Are you serious. I’m all over the place.”

            Calum splayed his fingers out over Luke’s stomach. “I’m hungry.”

            Luke smiled, both at the gesture and at the request. Finally, something he knew how to do. “What do you want?”

 

Calum sat at the kitchen table. Luke brought him a plate of cinnamon pancakes.

            “Oh, yes. Thank you,” Calum said.

            “Something to drink?”

            “I know this is weird but…do you have chocolate milk?”

            Luke grinned and turned toward the fridge. “Why is that weird?”

            “Because I’m nineteen.”

            Luke stiffened for a fraction of a second. He knew what Calum meant: _I’m nineteen, not five._ But still, he couldn’t help but think that he was with someone five years younger than him. I wasn’t a big deal, but…

            _Oh, just shut up_ , he told himself. _Why do you have to find something wrong in everything? Be more like Ashton. Be calm…be happy._

            He got the milk and the chocolate syrup from the fridge and took them to the counter. As he stirred them together into two glasses, he sang quietly, “Chocolate milk party, it’s a chocolate milk party.”

            Calum watched him from behind. He had jeans on, and they made his ass look great. His shoulder blades moved as he stirred the milk. Calum watched him wiggle his hips back and forth while sort of singing. “What’s that from?” he asked.

            Luke put the milk and syrup back and turned around, holding the glasses. He was bright red. “It’s just something Ashton says sometimes. I guess I…picked it up.”

            Calum put a bite in his mouth and took his glass. “Thank you. That’s adorable. You were dancing.”

            Luke, sitting down, grew redder and looked down at his plate. “I was?”

            “Mhm. You spend a lot of time with Ashton, huh?”

            Luke shrugged. “He’s my best friend.”

            “Yeah. But what if I get jealous?”

            Luke looked back up quickly; the color drained from his face. “Are you jealous? You shouldn’t be jealous.”

            Calum let his shoulders slump a little. He looked morose. “I don’t know, Luke…you said it yourself. He’s a good-looking guy. Do I have competition?”

            “No! Obviously not. Calum, if you think I like Ashton that way—”

            Calum was drinking his milk, gazing at Luke over the rim of the glass. He put it down and licked his lips. His jaw worked, and Luke realized it for what it was.

            “Dammit, Calum…I swear to God.”

            Calum broke into the laughter he’d been holding back. “Oh, you looked so worried!” He held his chest, leaning forward. “Oh, man.”

            “I will ff…” He sighed heavily. “Do you like the freaking pancakes at least?”

            Calum rubbed his eyes. “Yes.” He took a deep breath to stop the giggles. “Yes, they’re delicious. I’m sorry.”

            Luke shook his head and took a bite.

            “You and your head movements, Luke. Always nodding, always shaking.”

            “And you always joking around. I can’t even tell what’s real anymore.” He smiled.

            “Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”

            Luke laughed through his nose and chewed his pancakes. He swallowed and said quietly, “This is real.”

            Calum blinked at him. “I’m not so sure.”

            Luke looked back at him, his expression confused, almost sad. What did he mean? This was the realest thing he’d ever felt… Was Calum on a different plane?

            Calum shook his head. “I don’t mean it like that. This is…” He waved his fork in the air. “This is ethereal. This is like a dream to me, something I never thought would actually happen. Something I thought I would only ever wish for. Last night I swear we were levitating. It feels…wobbly. But in a good way. Cracked. And I could fall through so easily and hit the ground so hard but I know you’d be there to catch me first.”

            Luke’s mind spun. The room tilted a little. Or maybe that was just chemicals, arrhythmia. Maybe it was only his brain and his heart. “The words you speak…”

            “This is broken love in the first degree.”

            Luke strangled out a sound and rubbed his forehead. “How do you say things like that?”

            Calum spoke softly. “I don’t know. It just comes to me. I should write that down. Luke?”

            Luke raised his head to look at him—Calum with his big brown eyes and pretty lips and perfect symmetry and beautiful mind.

            “Thank you,” Calum said. He pointed a finger at his temple: “This was not a tangible thing before I came to you, and now I feel like I can use fifty percent more of it, just from talking to you and listening to you talk. I’ve written two full songs since I met you and I’ve got another one going from last night and just watching you cook and dance and sit and eat right now. Do you understand what you did for me, what you do to me?”

            Luke blushed all the way down his neck. “I…I just…”

            Calum got up from his chair and went over to stand in front of Luke. Luke stared up at him. “Well, come here,” Calum said.

            Luke stood and hugged Calum hard.

            “Don’t cry, okay?” Calum said.

            Luke wiped away his tears. “All right.”

            They stood, embracing for a while. Then Calum grabbed Luke’s shoulders and held him in front of him. “We’re gonna kill Feldmann, yeah?”

            Luke half laughed, half sobbed. “You are, Calum. _You_.”

            Calum shook his head, and Luke understood. He never gave himself credit, and now Calum was giving every ounce of it to him. _Not without you_ , that shake said. _Never without you._ Luke bit down on his lip to keep from crying more.

            Calum reached down, took Luke’s wrists, and brought Luke’s hands up to his face. Luke held his jaw again, just like he loved to do, and kissed him.

            “You taste like cinnamon,” Calum said. “You know, it’s a natural aphrodisiac.”

            Luke couldn’t help but laugh. Calum said it so matter-of-factly, as if he were telling him that cosine was adjacent over hypotenuse.

            “We should probably finish eating, huh?” Calum said, grinning. “We have a long day of nothing ahead of us.”

 

Calum stood behind Luke, his hands on Luke’s shoulders. They were in the living room. “You ready?” he asked.

            Luke sighed. “As I’ll ever be.”

            Calum had mentioned that he wished Luke had picked him up the night before when he said he wanted to. “It’s really sexy when people do that—carry someone while they wrap their legs around their waist and their arms around their neck.”

            “I didn’t want to drop you though. You probably weigh more than me—you’re so muscular.”

            “Pff. Okay.” Calum had rolled his eyes.

            “I’m serious! I would definitely drop you. I mean, I might be able to piggyback you but probably not the other way.”

            “Really?” Calum had sat up straighter and stared at him. “Yes. Piggyback. Let’s do it.”

            Luke laughed. “For real?” And Calum had nodded vigorously. “All right…I guess.”

            Now Calum jumped up and Luke caught him under his thighs. “Oh—okay. I got you. Uhh…where do I go?”

            “Wherever. Actually, take me to your guitar. I want a closer look.”

            Luke crossed the room, Calum’s thighs squeezing him like they had the night before. His arms were wrapped over his shoulders, crossing over his chest. Calum was laughing just above his ear. He couldn’t help but grin.

            “All right. Almost—” And then he stumbled. His foot caught on nothing, and he yelped. He felt Calum’s grip tighten around him in reflex, and they both went sprawling.

            “Ahhh,” Calum groaned, laughing hard. “Ow!” He rubbed his head.

            When he could speak between giggles, Luke said, “I am so sorry.”

            “I hit my head on your amp!”

            Luke wheezed with laughter. “I should never have put it there. This is just completely my fault.” He held his stomach.

            “It is,” Calum said, splayed out on his back, grinning.

            They both calmed down a bit, sighing out the last of their giggles.

            “See. I told you this would happen,” Luke said.

            “Well I thought maybe you would step up and prove yourself wrong. But I was sadly mistaken.” He turned his head sideways and smiled at Luke.

            “Aww…” Luke pouted out his lower lip.

            “Nnn…don’t do that.”

            “What?” Luke said, giving him puppy-dog eyes.

            Calum squeezed his hands into fists. He huffed out a breath. “Stop.”

            Luke scooted closer to him. He propped himself up and looked down at Calum. “Stop what?” he said in speaking-to-a-baby voice. “What’s wrong?” Calum pressed his lips together and looked away. “Aw, no. Tell me what it is.”

            Luke went to turn Calum’s face back towards him but Calum grabbed his hand from the air. He moved quickly, rolling Luke back over and pinning him down on his back, wrists on either side of his head.

            Luke stared up at him. “Whoa.”

            “It’s your _face_ ,” Calum said. “That’s what it is.”

            Luke swallowed.

            Calum tilted his head, and Luke unconsciously did the same. Calum gripped Luke’s wrists tighter and squared his shoulders. He stared down seriously for a while, but then suddenly broke out into laughter again, his tongue sticking between his teeth.

            “What?” Luke asked.

            “ _My taste in music is your face,_ ” Calum said, quoting another Twenty One Pilots song he liked.

           Luke knew just the one. “ “Tear In My Heart,” ” he said. “That’s you.”

           Calum sighed, smiling. He let go of Luke and stood up, putting his hands out. Luke took them and Calum hauled him to his feet.

           “I’ll be honest,” Luke said, comfortable from the serotonin rush. “I thought that was going to go somewhere else.”

           Calum raised his eyebrows. “Did you? Wow, Luke. I wouldn’t expect that from you.”

           Luke flushed red. “Yeah, no, I…” He trailed off.

           “Is that your thing?” Calum asked.

           Luke somehow got redder. “No! I was just…I thought maybe…”

           Calum shook his head, waiting. But Luke couldn’t get any more words out. “If it is…I’m down,” Calum said.

           Luke barked a laugh. “It’s…it’s not. Not really. I much prefer…” He put his face in his hand.

          Calum loved how awkward Luke was about all this. He nodded. “So do I.”

          Luke nodded, head in his hands.

          Calum went back to the sofa and sat down. Luke watched him. He patted above his knees and said, “My turn to try.

          Luke shook his head. “Not a good idea. I’m too heavy.”

          “Come on, Luke. You’re a tad taller than me but you’re so skinny…I think I can do it.” He patted his legs again.

          Luke came reluctantly forward and stood in front of him. “What do you want me to do?”

          Calum laughed and rolled his eyes. “Do you remember how I was when you said you wanted to carry me?”

          Of course Luke remembered. It was burned in his mind forever and he was glad about it. But…it wouldn’t be the same if they switched places. Calum was cute and belonged there and Luke would just be so weird sitting like that.

          “You’re thinking it’s weird. Stop thinking it’s weird,” Calum told him.

          “Jesus…”

          “Do it.”

          Luke groaned. He put one knee to Calum’s right and hoisted himself up onto his lap. Good lord, it was awkward. But when Calum shifted slightly underneath him and then looked up into his face, most of that weird feeling slipped away.

          “Okay,” Luke said. “Go ahead. But don’t be surprised when I’m too heavy to carry.” He made it sound like he wasn’t excited, but in actuality he was buzzing, wondering what it might be like if Calum really could carry him. And where Calum might carry him to. Boy, was he in some mood.

          “Ready?” Calum said.

          “Yes just do it already.”

          “Impatient.” Calum hooked his arms around Luke’s lower back and started to stand. Luke felt himself start to slide backwards immediately. “Arms around me,” Calum told him, and he put his arms around Calum’s neck and held him tight.

         And Calum stood up easily, bringing one arm underneath Luke’s leg. Luke wrapped his legs around Calum’s waist. He felt Calum’s right hand gripping his leg and his left hand pressing into his lower back.

         “Oh…” was all he could say.

         “Your legs are so long,” Calum said quietly, turning his face to look at Luke. Luke looked dumbfounded. His mouth was open a little and he was hunched over as if Calum were going to drop him any second. “Relax,” Calum said. “Straighten up.”

          Luke did the best he could. He leaned back just a little so he could look Calum straight on, if not from a bit of an upper angle.

          “Told you I could do it,” Calum said.

          “I…guess you were right.”

          “You’re quite light. I barely even need to hold you. You’re like a little koala.”

          “Wow.”

          “Sorry.” He giggled. “But really. I don’t even need to keep my hands on you.” And he started to remove his hands from Luke’s body.

          “No no!” Luke protested. He grasped Calum tighter but didn’t slip down.

          Calum laughed softly. “Just kidding.” He returned his hands to Luke, very high up on his hamstrings.

          “Little close, eh?” Luke said, staring at Calum.

          Calum stared back, unblinking. There was another weird smile on his lips. He shrugged, and Luke’s elbows moved with his shoulders. “I don’t think so.” He moved his hands the rest of the way up.

          Luke couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “You’re such a sleaze.”

          “Aww. Now look what you’ve done. I was going to take you to the room but now I feel insulted.”

          “ _And_ a tease!”

          “Nuh-uh.” Calum shook his head and inadvertently Eskimo kissed Luke. He grinned. “You teased me first.”

          “Well…that’s true. But you have to take me somewhere.”

          “All right. If you insist.”

          He started walking. Luke thought that maybe he really was taking him back to the bedroom, but then he turned the wrong way. “Uh…that’s not…”

          “Shh.”

          “Mm.”

          Calum took him back to where they just were. He sat Luke down on his amp.

          “What…” Luke said, looking at where he was. “I feel a strange sense of déjà vu.”

          Calum reached up and took the blue Mira off the wall. He handed it to Luke, who took it with a confused expression.

          “Do you know how to play “What I Like About You”?” Calum asked. “I think it would be good for the fundraiser.”

          Luke’s mouth opened and he made a little noise then said, “That’s…exactly what I was thinking.”

          “Lovely,” Calum said. “Can I sit on the coffee table?”

          Luke gestured absently. “You can do whatever you want.”

          Calum smiled. “Good to know.” He sat down on the table in front of Luke. He waved at him to say _Go on_.

          Luke plugged his guitar into the amp and turned it on. He formed the initial Bb chord and found himself suddenly nervous once again. Calum had never heard him play. What if he sucked? No, he knew he didn’t suck. He was really good. He’d been playing for as long as he could remember. So maybe he wasn’t nervous. Maybe that feeling was pure adrenaline.

          Calum was just sitting there, smiling at him.

          “Do you want me to sing, too?” Luke asked.

          “If you—” He cut himself off. Yes. Yes he did. “Yes. Please do.”

          Luke nodded and began. He played the intro, and then started the rhythm chords. And then he sang.

 

_“That’s what I like about you, you hold me tight_

_Tell me I’m the only one_

_Wanna come over tonight?_

_Yeah_

_"Keep on whispering in my ear_

_Tell me all the things that I want to hear_

_‘Cause it’s true. That’s what I like about you.”_

 

Calum watched Luke’s fingers play over the frets. Luke was really good. And Luke’s voice was incredible—amazing pitch and a bit of rasp. Luke looked up at him on the last line of the chorus and smiled. And Calum picked up the second verse.

 

_“What I like about you, you really know how to dance…”_

 

Luke faltered on one of the chords. The purity of Calum’s voice had punched him right in the chest. It sounded less like Calum’s normal speaking voice and more like the way Calum sounded when it was dark out and he was very close to Luke’s face, talking quietly and saying things directly into his mind.

            Calum’s smile twisted a little, and he continued to sing.

 

            “ _When you go up, down, jump around_

_Think about true romance_

_Yeah…”_

            They sang the seconds chorus together. Then Luke sang the main vocals, hitting the _you_ s in a way that made Calum fuzzy inside, while Calum sang the backups. Then Luke improvised a solo, and he let his final cord ring out. They’d both heard enough.

            Calum clapped. “That’s definitely it.”

            Luke sighed heavily. “That was great. Your voice…”

            “When you say you play guitar, you’re not kidding.”

            “I just wish you had your bass.”

            Calum nodded. “Don’t worry, I can learn that pretty quick. It’s the same thing over and over again anyway.” Luke nodded in agreement. “But it’s definitely missing something. Drums.”

            Luke played a little riff. “I can help with that. You know my friend Ashton?” he joked.

            “You mean the good-looking guy?” Calum teased back.

            “Yes yes him.” Luke rolled his eyes. “I told you already—he’s the best drummer I know. Could play with the pros in an instant.”

            “Well!” Calum said. “How convenient.”

            “Right? But we’re missing something else too.”

            “Another guitar.”

            “Yeah. I can play the lead but then, like, I had to switch to the rhythm chords, you know? I can’t play both parts at the same time. And that solo was shit.”

            “No. It wasn’t.” Calum poked him. “Really you’re quite good. Better than I ever could have been. That’s why I switched to bass in the first place. Never really got guitar.”

            “I badly want to hear you play.”

            “Well, we’ll find another guitarist and well have a practice, yeah?”

            Luke nodded. “Absolutely.” He went to hang the guitar back up but stopped halfway and sat back down. “You know…I think I can help with that, too.” Calum tilted his head at him. “Yeah. Remember? I once heard Michael play down at that bar by the bike shop when I was with Ashton. He was pretty good. He sang really well, too. He played a song I’d never heard before but there were some really pretty parts in it. Actually, he said he wrote it, didn’t he? Somehow he combined his chords with, like, lead notes? And he did a bit of a solo-ish thing. Well he was by himself but—”

            “Sounds perfect,” Calum said. “Honestly, what a coincidence is that, right? We all met here at the school and we’re all friends, I think. And we all play really well. Not to mention we’re all hot as fuck.”

            Luke burst out laughing and almost dropped his guitar. “Oh my God. I can’t believe you just said that. I mean, we’ve established that we think Ash is attractive but…well, you must think I’m a little cute, I guess.”

            “Luke, I swear.”

            “I know. Have confidence. Apparently I need your self-confidence! _You_ think you’re hot.” He laughed again. “That’s great. I think so too.” His breath caught for a second and he squinted one eye shut. “And Michael too? I think he’s more, like, pretty. Well, he does get that look on his face. Like, all the time.”

            “Oh yeah.” Calum said, nodding. “I mean…yeah. He’s different. But, like, the first time I saw him walking outside the sun hit his skin just so and like, he glowed white light. It was crazy.”

            “He is quite pale. I like pale skin.”

            Calum looked down at his own arms and faked a frown.

            “Oh! No, Calum, I love your skin. You’re golden.”

            “I know you do.” He smiled. “And I kinda dig Michael’s hair.”

            “It’s been like three colors since we’ve known him. Ashton’s always saying it’s going to all fall out any day.”

            “I wouldn’t argue that,” Calum said, laughing. “Hey, did you see last night at debate practice that Ashton had red dye on his hands?”

            “Christ, Calum, you notice everything. Yes. I talked to him about it.”

            “Yeah? What’d he say?”

            Luke scratched his head. “I don’t know if I should tell you.”

            Calum shrugged. “That’s okay. I can guess pretty well.” He stood up and stretched. “After all, I like to do the same thing.”

            Luke stood as well and put the guitar back on its hook. “I like that you like it.”

            Calum went to him. Without thinking, Luke took his waist in his hands. Calum brought his hands up to Luke’s hair again but started picking at little tufts here and there. “I do wish it was a bit longer, though. Longer…maybe browner…maybe a little curly.”

            “Stop talking about Ashton!” Luke shouted.

            Calum laughed and plunged his fingers into Luke’s hair. “I promise.” He put his forehead against Luke’s. Luke pulled at Calum’s hips and they pressed their bodies close together. Calum slid his hands down the back of Luke’s neck. Luke dug his fingertips gently into Calum’s sides. “I’m tired,” Calum nearly whispered. “Can we go back to bed now? I feel like the plotline of this whole thing has advanced enough for one day.”

            Luke chuckled quietly. “It’s three o’clock.”

            “Perfect time to be in bed.”

            “Don’t you have work for some debate class?”

            Calum drummed his fingers on Luke’s neck. “I think I can get it done later. I really like that teacher, you know? He’s my favorite. You should meet him some time.”

            Luke didn’t know when things had gotten so comfortable. He wasn’t complaining. He was going to say something like _I’d like that_ when Calum kissed him. Luke took handfuls of Calum’s shirt and pushed at him with the heels of his hands. They started to kiss and walk at the same time like in every movie, but Luke stumbled over Calum’s toes and Calum hit his hip on the arm of the couch. Calum swore; they both laughed and just walked to the bedroom instead.

            The covers were a mess, Luke’s side pulled almost all the way to the foot of the bed and Calum’s side folded underneath itself.

            “Jeez,” Luke said.

            Calum went to the bed and in one quick motion had the sheets righted again.

            “How did you do that?” Luke asked.

            Calum came back over to him and pulled him down onto the bed. He turned Luke on his back and pulled his T-shirt over his head. He kissed Luke on the forehead, on the nose, on the mouth, on the chin, on the neck. He kissed Luke down his chest and down his stomach.

            And Luke knew what was happening. He knew even before Calum’s fingers undid the button of his jeans, before Calum pulled everything down and off like Luke himself had done last night. He knew very well as Calum kissed just above and just below his belly button. He knew as Calum continued downward.

            His abs twitched and he brought his hands to Calum’s hair. He arched a little and bent one leg, accidentally knocking Calum’s elbow with his heel and making Calum hum a bit. His toes curled under. He tried not to make much noise.

            When Luke was done Calum crawled up and laid down next to him. Luke’s cheeks were flushed pink and he was staring up at the ceiling. Calum laid his arm across Luke’s chest and pulled himself close.

            Luke wanted to say something. He turned his head toward Calum. Calum’s eyes were closed and he was smiling faintly. His hair was a little mussed up on the sides where Luke’s thighs had been. Luke wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He brought his arm up and laid it across his chest, over Calum’s.

            They slept.


	16. Therapy

Luke awoke at 5:20 the next morning to find Calum gone from the bed next to him. He had a fleeting moment of insecurity, thinking Calum had decided everything was a mistake and had left in the middle of the night. But all of Calum’s stuff was still over in the corner. And he could hear Calum moving around in the kitchen. He sighed in relief and sank back into the bed.

            He faintly remembered having woken up at eleven or midnight to the feel of Calum’s hand coming to rest lightly on his back. He’d turned his head and pushed up off his stomach a little and whispered Calum’s name. Calum hadn’t woken up, but he’d shifted again, and the sheets had drawn down away from his face and he had turned his head just so that the moonlight from the window had fallen soft across his cheek, lighting half his face and sharpening has jawline even further. Luke remembered staring at him until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.

            He wondered if Calum had woken up while he was still sleeping. Well, he obviously had, since he wasn’t here now.

            Luke rubbed his eyes and sat up and leaned against the headboard, tapping his fingers together. Calum’s phone buzzed on the pillow next to him. Luke was immediately curious. But he knew he shouldn’t look. It could be Calum’s mom or his football coach for all he knew. But…at 5:22 in the morning? Probably not. Someone really close to Calum then. Maybe that one friend from—

            Nope. It didn’t matter because he wasn’t going to look.

            His eyes had started to drift over when Calum came to the doorway holding two mugs, saying, “Good. You’re awake.”

            Luke flicked his eyes over to him. “Oh. Uh…yes.”

            Calum shook his head, smiling at Luke’s nearly ever-present awkwardness that seemed to restart every day. “I’m impressed you slept that long. It’s been over twelve hours.”

            “I woke up once.”

            “Yeah? What did you do?”

            _I watched you sleep_. He cleared his throat. “I just…laid here.”

            “All right. Well, I’ve been up for a bit. I made coffee.” He held up the mugs.

            “Thank goodness. And thank _you_.”

            “Sure.” Calum handed Luke his mug. “I drink mine black but I found vanilla creamer in the fridge so I figured that’s what you liked. I hope I didn’t put too much.”

            Luke looked down into his mug. It looked exactly like what he made almost every morning. “Oh. No this is…thanks.”

            “Mhm.” Calum climbed up onto the bed and sat Indian style facing Luke and sipped his coffee.

            “I think you got a text,” Luke told him.

            “Oh.” He picked up his phone and swiped open the text from Peter: _How’s the weekend going?_ with one of those suggestive half-smiling side-eyeing emojis. Calum laughed softly and answered _Go back to sleep._

            “Sorry,” he said. “That was just my friend.”

            Luke felt some dumb surge of accomplishment at guessing correctly and told himself to stop. “Oh. It’s early.”

            “Yeah, well.” He shrugged and said nonchalantly, “He was wondering how things are going.”

            Luke flushed. “Oh…well…”

            “You want to know what I said?”

            Luke looked at his coffee. “Kind of.”

            Calum smiled. “I told him to go away. It’s none of his business how much I’m enjoying being here with you.”

            Luke looked back up at him. “Oh.”

            “You say oh a lot.”

            “Oh—I mean. Yeah. I don’t know.” He drank his coffee so he would shut up.

            “I am, Luke.”

            “So am I.”

            Calum smiled. “Is the coffee okay?”

            Luke nodded quickly. “Yes. It’s just how I like it.”

            “Okay. Good.”

            Luke noticed something. “You’re wearing the _Nimrod_ shirt.”

            Calum looked down at himself. “Yes. I am.”

            “The shirt you wore the first time you came to my office.”

            Calum stuck out his lower lip. “Aw. Luke, that’s sweet.” Luke blushed again. “Really. You remember that?”

            Of course he did. He remembered everything since that day. He nodded.

            “Well that’s really nice. I bet you were wearing chinos and a button down.”

            Luke laughed. “That’s what I wear every day.”

            “Not today.”

            Luke blushed again. He was still naked from when Calum had taken all his clothes off yesterday afternoon. The sheets were pulled down to his hips and he was only just barely covered. “That’s…true.” He wanted to reach down and yank the covers back up, but he thought that might be weird.

            “And yesterday you wore jeans.” Calum rolled his eyes up and tilted his head back. “God, you looked good in those.”

            Luke was still red but he was smiling. “I can wear another pair today.”

            “Please do.”

            “Can I get a shower first?”

            Calum laughed and put his mug out. “By all means. We need showers.”

            “Okay. I’ll be back in a bit.”

            Calum leaned over and kissed him. He wasn’t expecting it, but he returned it comfortably enough. He got up, wishing he had something to cover himself with, put his coffee mug on the bedside table, and went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

            Calum watched him go, sipping his coffee again. He heard the water turn on and thought about Luke stepping in, turning his face up into the spray. He drank again.

            He really really liked Luke. Both the teacher Luke who had made him a million times smarter even though he wouldn’t credit himself for it, who had gotten Calum into debate and had encouraged him to do this prestigious competition that he and Ashton had been in years ago—both that Luke and the awkward blushing smiling giggling oh-ing Luke he’d come to know even closer the last two days. Luke made him feel so good in so many different ways—physically, mentally, emotionally—from his head to his stomach to his toes and back again.

            He _really_ liked Luke.

            He wanted so badly to impress Luke and make him proud of him. He knew Luke already was proud, but he wanted to win Feldmann. He wanted to show Luke that these weeks weren’t a waste—that it wasn’t just a fluke that he’d caught on and had been doing all right.

            And he was scared. He was _so_ scared that he would fail. He didn’t care if he lost but he cared that Luke by association would lose too. He wanted to do right by Luke, and he was afraid that he was going to let him down. He wasn’t sure he was good enough. He was nervous but excited and he thought maybe he was prepared but…maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he wasn’t ready at all. He could imagine himself stepping up there and getting some topic that would seem so easy to everyone else but not having any idea what to do with it and then screwing it up. He could imagine the look of sadness—no, _disappointment_ —on Luke’s face when he failed to do what Luke had thought so much that he could do.

            But maybe he couldn’t.

            Maybe he shouldn’t.

            Calum put down his coffee and got up at once and ran into the bathroom, flinging the door open, getting shrouded in steam, and saying loud, “Luke, I don’t think I can.”

            Luke startled, making an incoherent _whu_ sound. Calum heard his hand slap onto the wall to steady himself. “Calum! You scared me.”

            “Luke, I don’t think I can do it.”

            Luke’s fingers pulled back the shower curtain a little. He peeked his head around. His hair was drawn back out of his face and messy. One little piece curled forward and fell across his forehead. Calum swallowed.

            “What do you mean?” Luke asked. Oh, no. Calum _was_ thinking everything was a mistake. He was going to shake his head and tell Luke that he was leaving. That he couldn’t be with him because he was afraid of—

            “Feldmann. I’m…I’m just really nervous. I don’t think I’m ready. I’m not good enough. And if I have to go against Michael I…”

            Luke kept himself from sighing in relief and smiling. Calum was feeling nervous, and he had to say something about it. He took a deep breath and said, “Calum, listen to me. You’re _incredible_. The ease and speed with which you’ve improved over these weeks has just blown my mind. You’re one of the most intelligent people I know. Ashton sees it, too. He’s seen it from the start along with me, and that was even before you and I started talking and long before he had any idea who you were. I’ve been showing him your work since the beginning of this course and we’ve both always seen the potential you had and you’ve reached it. You’re almost at Michael’s level if not already there. And remember, he took another course with Ashton over the summer so he’s had more experience than you and yet you’re there. You’re amazing, Calum. You amaze me, you amaze Ashton, and you’re going to amaze the judges. You’re brilliant and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

            Calum blinked. He covered his face with his hands. He couldn’t believe Luke had just said that. Nobody had ever said anything like that to him before.

            “Calum?” Luke said.

            Calum pulled his shirt over his head. He took off his pants, kicking them away. He took off his underwear.

            “Calum…?” Uh oh. Luke shifted on his feet, preparing himself.

            Calum walked forward. Luke backed into the shower. Calum swiped the curtain aside and stepped in. The water poured over him as he pushed Luke back against the wall.

            “Cold,” Luke said, and his body reflexively twitched away from the wall. Calum held him there.

            “Why are you so kind to me?” he asked, pushing his fingers through Luke’s hair.

            Luke reached around him and closed the curtain as best he could. “I—I just—”

            “Thank you,” Calum said. “What do you want me to do?”

            “I want you to go to Feldmann and win.”

            “ _Luke_.” He drew a palm down Luke’s chest.

            “I don’t…what are you—”

            “I don’t know how else to make you feel as good as you just made me feel. Tell me.”

            Luke thought for a moment, watching Calum look at him all over his body. Then he took Calum’s hips in his shaky hands and said, “Kiss me.”

            Calum did.

            Luke pushed at his hips and they stepped, turning, into the center of the shower underneath the hot spray. Water ran over them, between them, around Luke’s hand as he brought it to Calum’s face. Calum wrapped his arm low around Luke’s back and pulled Luke’s hips against his own, holding him in place while he started to kiss down the front of Luke’s neck. Luke leaned back, holding on, hands around Calum’s back, feeling the muscles move underneath his palms.

            “Calum?”

            “Mm?”

            “Can we…”

            Calum left a kiss on Luke’s chest then gazed up at him, hair falling in his face, blinking through the water. “Tell me.”

            “Maybe you could…” He trailed off, looking sideways.

            “What do you want me to do?” Luke only blushed hard. Calum stepped back from him and held his upper arms. “Go out and wait?”

            “No! Don’t leave.”

            Calum smiled. “I won’t.” He glanced down “I can tell you don’t want me to.” Luke flushed a furious red, making Calum’s smile widen. “But you have to tell me what you want. I want to make you feel good, Luke.”

            Luke sighed. It was so hard for him to say stuff like this. He eventually just blurted it out. “I want to sit down and I want you on top of me.” He covered his face. “Like when we were on the couch…”

            Calum grinned. He kissed Luke’s forehead, pulling Luke’s hands away. “Okay. I’ll dry off and let you finish and—”

            “I mean here.” Calum raised his eyebrows. “Under the water.” He looked at Calum, eyes wide and nervous but also excited.

            Calum nodded. “Bathtub sex. Sort of. I like it.”

            “Oh, God. Don’t say that. Don’t talk about it just…”

            Calum gestured at the base of the tub: _Well, go on then. Sit._

            Luke blinked at him. Then he lowered himself to the floor, legs out, leaning back on the side of the tub, ready.

            Calum stood over him, put a hand on Luke’s shoulder and one between his legs to hold Luke in place, and bent his knees underneath himself, straddling Luke completely. Luke’s eyelids fluttered but didn’t close. He reached up and pulled Calum’s face down to his own, kissing him again.

            Calum kissed him for a second, waiting, letting the water and Luke’s precome smooth things out. And he moved his hips and Luke let out a noise, breathing into Calum’s mouth. Luke slid his hands down, pressing at Calum’s lower back, pulling him to move again. He did. Luke let his head fall back and Calum scratched down Luke’s chest until he gripped Luke’s shoulders again and moved a little faster.

            The water sprayed lightly on them, dripping down Calum’s back and around Luke’s hands.

            Once, Calum adjusted, shifting because his knees were hurting a little, and when he came back down something happened and he shuddered and had to put his hand against the wall next to Luke’s head to keep himself from folding forward.

            “What?” Luke asked, looking worried.

            Calum’s mouth was hanging open, his eyes clenched closed. “I must have—” He made it happen again. “ _Luke_.”

            He put his other hand to the wall and Luke understood. He dug his fingers into Calum’s sides. Calum continued and Luke gripped harder. It was almost over for him. Without thinking, he removed his right hand from Calum’s hip and brought it between them, taking Calum, moving in sync with him.

            “I’m supposed to be…making you…” Calum tried to say.

            “You are. You are.” Luke gasped and squeezed his right hand. He finished, pulling hard at Calum’s hip.

            “L—” Calum drew in a breath through his teeth. He sighed out and in a few moments was done too.

            He leaned over Luke, breathing heavy. Luke’s head was resting against the wall. There was a lazy smile on his face, a mess on his chest. Calum looked down at him, and he couldn’t help but bring a hand down and push that piece of hair away from Luke’s eyes. Luke stared up at him. Water dripped off Calum’s bangs and onto Luke’s face, making him blink. Calum wiped a drop away from Luke’s flushed cheek with his thumb.

            Then he sat up, rose up off of Luke, and stood. He put his hands down and Luke took them. Calum pulled him to his feet. The water had turned nearly cold. Luke fell forward and hugged Calum.

            Calum caught him and laughed softly. “Are we even, then? Was that enough?”

            Luke made some noise, sort of a laugh, sort of a sigh. “Yes.”

            “Even though I feel like I got more out of it.”

            Luke stood straight again, looking at Calum. “I wanted to _see_ you. At night it was dark and when you…well, I couldn’t see your face. I wanted to see you. I got to see you.”

            Calum wanted to both laugh and cry at Luke’s intense emotionality. “I can’t imagine how my face must have looked.”

            Luke smiled. “Incredible. And…for _me_.”

            Calum could do nothing but kiss him. They stood under the water, letting everything wash over them. Calum brought his hand up and wiped at Luke’s chest. “Sorry…” he mumbled into Luke’s lips.

            Luke only laughed and kissed him again. He brought his own hand up to wash himself off. Then he caught Calum’s hand in his own, holding it over his heart.

            “Oh, God,” Calum said. “You.”

            Luke blushed again. “Me?”

            _Always you._ He nodded, sliding his hand around to Luke’s back and kissing him again. “Guess we should actually get clean now, huh,” he said, pulling back.

            “Well, I _was_ clean before you came in here.”

            “Gee, I’m sorry. I won’t make the mistake again.”

            Luke grinned, ready to make a retort, but then his face fell and he looked like he was thinking too hard again. Calum knew.

            “This isn’t a mistake,” he said seriously. “Luke.” Luke couldn’t look at him. “It’s _not_.”

            “We’re breaking every rule, every _thing_.”

            “It doesn’t matter.”

            “But what if—”

            “What if I’m falling in love with you?” Calum said. He held Luke’s shoulders.

            Luke dropped his head and put the heels of his hands to his eyes.

            Calum sighed and turned around, finally shutting off the water. He turned back and let Luke cry for a little while. Eventually he took Luke’s wrists and pulled his hands away from his face. “I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have said that.”

            Luke shook his head vigorously. “No. No.”

            “Okay. I won’t. I’m…sorry.”

            “No, not…Calum. I’ve just…I’ve been waiting a really long time.”

            Calum tilted his head. “Oh…” His brow furrowed and he thought for a second. “How long have you…?”

            Luke shook his head again, letting out a breath and looking at his feet. “Since we started talking. And…maybe even before that but—well, love at first sight is dead. Psychologically it’s—” He shook his head. “No, but, like, I used to show Ashton your stuff since the first week of class like I said and I would constantly be thinking about the kind of potential you had and to see you reaching it is just…and…and then we fought but then you hugged me and I _knew_. And we’ve been working together and you’ve hit it off so well with Ashton who’s been my best friend for so long and so that makes me really happy and he likes you a lot and I’ve just been…waiting.” He coughed, trying not to choke. He breathed in heavily. “I love you. In love. I’ve loved you and I still love you and…” He shook his head, pressing his lips together.

            Calum stood there, watching him, stunned.

            Neither of them had had something like this before in their lives. Neither of them had had someone like this. Sure, there were a few boyfriends, but never something quite this deep.

            Calum swallowed. “I don’t know what to say.”

            Luke, incredibly, broke into a wide, sad smile. Calum’s heart swelled. “For once, I have the words and you’re speechless.”

            Calum smiled softly back at him. “Definitely. I’m definitely falling.”

            Calum held Luke’s face in his hands for a moment before bending down and picking him up again. Luke wrapped his legs around him, right where they fit perfectly. Luke opened the curtain and Calum carried him, taking him out and sitting him down on the counter by the sink. Luke reached over, grabbed the towel off the rack, and pulled it around his shoulders.

            “That’s really cute,” Calum said. “Wait here. I still haven’t actually showered.”

            “Aww. You couldn’t have let me stay?”

            “No because now I’m feeling shy and modest.”

            “Not with that body.” Calum snorted. “Really,” Luke said. “You’re so fit. I’m just skinny. If anyone gets to be insecure here it’s me.” He swung his legs, kicking his heels on the cabinet under the sink.

            Calum smiled and shook his head. “Luke, I love your body. Wait here. Not long, I promise. Just give me like five seconds.”

            Luke whined. He nodded.

            Calum was done in under three minutes. He shut off the water and poked his head around the curtain. And he realized there was no towel—it was still around Luke. “Could you grab me another towel?” he asked.

            Luke glanced over at the rack, then gave a wry smile, pulling his own around himself tighter. “I don’t know if I have another…” He did, in the linen closet just around the corner, but it was game time.

            “You have to have two towels. What if one’s in the wash?”

            Luke shrugged, his towel brushing his cheeks.

            “I know you have another towel.”

            “Go get it then.”

            Calum opened his mouth, closed it. “I can’t. I’m naked.”

            “I’ve seen you naked.”

            “Luke!”

            “What are you gonna do for the towel?”

            Calum didn’t say anything.

            “What are you gonna do?”

            Calum pressed a hand to his forehead. “Luke, just get me the towel.”

            Now Luke didn’t say anything.

            Calum huffed out a breath. He bit his lip, thinking. “I’ll…give you another blowjob.”

            Luke started cracking up. He pulled the towel up and over his face, hiding his blush. “Oh my God.”

            “I’ll do it. Just get me the towel.”

            “Jesus, just have this one!” He threw the towel at Calum.

            Calum caught it one-handed. “You couldn’t have done that five minutes ago?” He stepped back.

            “Well, now _I’m_ naked.”

            “I’ve seen you naked,” Calum said from behind the curtain, imitating Luke from earlier.

            “Oh, shut up. I’m taking you up on your offer later, though.” He stood up off the counter. He couldn’t believe he’d just said that so comfortably, especially after they’d just said they loved each other. Sort of. He breathed in, breathed out.

            Calum only rolled his eyes, laughing, stepping out of the shower with the towel around his waist. He put his hands on his hips and looked Luke up and down. Luke blushed again, crossing his arms in front of himself, partially covering.

            “See, that’s how I felt,” Calum said.

            “Whatever.”

            Calum went to him and kissed his head. “Get dressed, Luke. We have work to do. Places to be.”

            “Demanding…” Luke said quietly. But he couldn’t help but smile at Calum’s little sweet, domestic gesture. Oh, but— “Wait…we do?”

            “Yup. Get dressed.”

            Luke did as he was told.

 

“We’re not interrupting anything, are we?” Calum asked into the speaker of Luke’s phone.

            “Calum?” Ashton asked.

            “Yeah. Me too,” Luke said.

            One of the things Calum said they had to do today was call up Ashton and therefore Michael as well. He hadn’t told Luke why, just said it needed to be done. They were on the couch again, Luke’s phone on the coffee table in front of them.

            “Oh! Here,” Ashton said. “Let me put you on speaker.”

            “Hey guys,” Michael said.

            “Hey, Michael,” they both answered.

            “What’s up?” Ashton asked.

            “I don’t know,” Luke said. “Calum didn’t tell me.”

            Calum looked at him and said, “Well, I thought you might say no so I’m waiting until Ashton and Michael say yes because I know they will.”

            “Oooh…” Ashton said.

            Luke gave Calum a look. “What do you mean?”

            Calum smiled and looked Luke right in the eyes and said, “So Luke and I are playing “What I Like About You” at the fundraiser and I—we—were wondering if you wanted to join us today at Therapy to work it out.”

            Luke’s eyes widened. He shook his head. No. No they could not go out in public to the music store. No. They’d be caught. And…Luke was worried that if they left the apartment then everything would revert. The sweetness and the togetherness and the kisses and everything—it would fall apart. _When we came through that door, we came together. What happens when we leave?_

            “I can hear Luke’s thoughts,” Ashton said.

            Luke cleared his throat. “Um…maybe that’s not such a good idea.”

            “What did I tell you, Luke?” Ashton said. “We’ve been out in public plenty of times, Mikey and I. You just have to be normal about it. Besides, Alex is really cool about the whole thing. It’s going to—” Ashton giggled, then shouted, “Michael, stop! We’re on the phone. Just wait a second, okay? Sorry. It’ll be fine, Luke. I’d like to join you, Calum.”

            “Me too,” Michael said.

            Calum nodded. “Thank you.” He turned to look at Luke again.

            Luke shook his head. He was definitely overpowered here. Well…there had to be a first time for everything. They couldn’t just stay in this apartment forever. “I mean…all right.”

            “Yeah!” Ashton said.

            Calum leaned over and kissed Luke on the cheek.

            “Did you kiss him, Calum?” Ashton asked.

            “Yep.”

            “Good. Positive reinforcement.”

            “I’m not Pavlov’s dog, Ash,” Luke said.

            “Is he getting more comfortable?” Michael asked.

            “I think so,” Calum said. “He still gets pretty awkward sometimes. You should have seen him when we got here Thursday night.”

            Michael laughed.

            “I’m right here,” Luke said, blushing.

            “Have, uh… _things_ been going well?” Ashton said.

            “I don’t know. Have they, Luke?” Calum was giving him the most manipulative face.

            Luke lowered his head. “I...suppose.”

            “Ouch,” Michael said.

            “That’s cold,” Ashton added.

            “No!” Luke said, looking up at Calum. “I mean…you’re… _God_ why do you guys make me do this?”

            “That’s a good sign, Calum, don’t worry.” Ashton giggled. “He wouldn’t be this embarrassed if he wasn’t liking it.”

            Luke groaned.

            Calum smiled. “I think things are going absolutely great. Every time, it’s been wonderful.”

            Luke’s mouth dropped open and he gaped at Calum while Ashton and Michael laughed on the other end of the line. Calum reached over and squeezed Luke’s thigh. Boy, did he like embarrassed Luke.

            “Oh, man. You guys are great,” Ashton said. “See? I told you, Luke.”

            Luke only shook his head and put his face in his hands.

            “What time are we meeting you?” Michael asked.

            “Can you guys be over there in an hour?”

            “Mmm…” Michael said. “I’m not sure that’s enough time for me to make Ash—”

            Calum and Luke could hear the smack of Ashton’s palm against Michael’s chest. “Michael!”

            “Hey, you made me say it,” Luke said.

            “Shut up, Luke,” Ashton said. “You didn’t even say it anyway. An hour is plenty. We’ll see you th—Mi—” His voice tightened. “Apparently we have to get off the phone right now.”

            “See you then,” Calum said, grinning. He tapped the end call button, letting Michael do whatever it was he was about to do in privacy. He turned to Luke. “They’re so great.”

            Luke glared at him. “What is wrong with you all? Why do you gang up on me?”

            Calum sighed and leaned back, putting his hands behind his head. “Oh, Luke. It’s not us. It’s you.”

            “Oh, thanks.”

            Calum scooted over, right up next to Luke. “We’re going to have a great time. I’m excited to have, like, a real band. When is the fundraiser?”

            “It’s actually about an hour after Feldmann. In the music hall: Armstrong.”

            “Okay. Cool. I’ll have to change out of my nice clothes.”

            Luke perked up. “What are you going to wear?”

            “I have this white shirt with black buttons. And…I don’t know. Can I still wear jeans?”

            “Are you going to wear a jacket?”

            “Mhm. A black one.”

            “Only if you wear that and black jeans.”

            Calum gave him a look. “Do I ever wear blue jeans?”

            Luke smiled. “No.”

            “What are you going to wear?”

            “I hadn’t thought about it yet.”

            “You should wear all black. An all black suit.” Calum turned his whole body to face him. “Oh, please do that. Do you have that?”

            Luke thought, looking away from Calum’s face two inches from his own. “Well, I have black pants, of course. And I think I have a black button up.”

            “Mhm. You wore one to class the day we talked about Occam’s Razor and Ariadne’s Thread.”

            “See, now _you_ remember something _I_ wore.”

            “I loved that shirt on you. It was so hot.”

            Luke blushed. “Okay. I’ll wear that. And…I have this jacket—black with sort of a plaid pattern. But a not tacky one. Would that be okay?”

            Calum closed the gap between them, touching his nose to Luke’s. “I think that would be perfect.”

            Luke started to tilt his chin to press their lips together but Calum got up. “Hey.”

            “We need breakfast. It’s nearly ten, and we have to meet them at ten forty-five.” Calum picked up one of the TV remotes. “Does this hook up to Bluetooth?” he asked, pointing at the TV.

            “Yeah.”

            “Lovely.” Calum turned the TV on, set it to Bluetooth, then opened his phone and turned up the volume. “Fairly Local” dropped, the bass vibrating on the walls, and Calum made a face, biting his lip. “Oh yes. Let’s go make something to eat.” He went over to Luke and pulled him up, then ran off into the kitchen.

 

Ashton and Michael pulled into the parking lot of Therapy right on time.

            “They’re they are,” Luke said, then sighed.

            Calum turned to him. “We’re going to be fine. Look at them.”

            The other two just got out of Ashton’s car like nothing was weird. Ashton came around to Michael’s side. Michael squeezed his ass. Ashton rolled his eyes and shoved Michael, but he didn’t look around or anything—he was completely comfortable, completely sure that nobody was watching. And maybe nobody else was. And even if they were, Ashton in jeans and a t-shirt with holes along the collar and Michael in a denim jacket rolled up to his elbows and standing an inch taller than Ashton made them look the same age. Nobody would have any clue. Luke only hoped it was the same with he and Calum.

            “See?” Calum said. “Everything’s fine. Can we get out of the car now?”

            “Yeah. I guess.”

            “Thank you.”

            They got out and met Ashton and Michael, and then they all walked inside.

            “Hey! Ash! What’s going on?” The guy behind the counter had brown hair in a fringe swept left over his forehead and dark stubble and a bright smile that said he knew Ashton well. He came around to meet them.

            “Hey, man,” Ashton said, giving the guy a hug. “Guys, this is Alex.”

            “Hey, Mike,” Alex said, and Michael nodded at him, smiling. Alex turned to Calum and Luke. “Nice to meet you…?” He extended his hand. Calum took it first and shook.

            “Calum.”

            “Sweet.”

            “And Luke.” Luke put his hand out and shook with Alex.

            “Cool. This another pair?” Alex said, turning back to Ashton.

            Ashton smiled over at Luke, who was blushing yet again. “Yep. Just like us.”

            “Nice. Hey, man—to each his own. You seem pretty fitting for each other anyway.”

            Calum smiled. “Thanks. How could you tell so quick?”

            “His feet are pointing right at you,” Alex said, pointing at Luke. “Even when he was shaking my hand.”

            Calum held back a laugh. “Right. Yeah, he does that.”

            “What do you…” Luke looked down at his feet. Was that a thing? “Oh.”

            “He’s the shy one, then,” Alex said.

            Ashton and Calum nodded. “Yeah, he is,” Calum said.

            “Always has been,” Ashton added.

            Alex nodded. “You guys looking for anything?”

            “Well, first off, we sort of came to work out an arrangement for a song. Could we use the studio for like, maybe an hour?”

            “You can have all the time you want, dude.”

            “Awesome. Thanks. And then, he’s getting a new guitar today,” Ashton said, tilting his head toward Michael.

            Michael looked at him, mouth open wide. “What? I am?”

            “Happy late birthday,” Ashton said.

            Calum wanted to melt they were so sweet to each other. He looked at Luke, and Luke smiled back at him in agreement.

            And Michael had turned into a jellybean with excitement. “Any of them?” he asked, wiggling on his toes.

            “I mean, don’t go crazy.”

            Michael yelled. “I’m going to look around!” He ran over to the wall of guitars.

            Alex laughed. “All right. I’ll set you guys up while he finds something way out of your budget.” Alex went to the back of the shop to the studio to set the amps. “Pick out whatever you want to play,” he called.

            A chord sounded from the electric guitar section, loud and dirty. “Ah, fuck yeah!” they heard Michael say.

            Ashton gazed over at him for a bit, then shook his head. He turned back to Calum and Luke.

            “There’s no budget, is there,” Luke said.

            Ashton sighed. “Not with him.”

            Luke smiled, listening to Michael play things he couldn’t dream of playing that fast or that clean. “Uh, he’s way better than I thought.”

            “Just wait till we play,” Ashton said. “Anyway, pick out something. I’m going to set up a kit in the studio.” He walked off.

            Calum turned to Luke. “We can just play whatever guitar we want?”

            Luke shrugged. “I guess so. Ash and Alex seem pretty tight.”

            “Wow. That’s…I’ll get to play, like, a thousand dollar bass.”

            “Just don’t expect me to buy it for you,” Luke said, smiling. “Ash makes like twice as much as me.”

            Calum laughed. “It’s okay. I like mine. My birthday isn’t till January anyway. You can save up.”

            “Pff.”

            Calum turned and put a rock-on sign up to Michael, who stuck his tongue out and played another riff.

            “He’s so different from when we’re at debate,” Luke said.

            “I like both sides.”

            “Me too.”

            “See that white one? With the black circles on it?” Calum said, pointing up to the second row of basses hanging on the wall. “I want that one.”

            “I want that yellow one with the bird inlays.”

            Calum gave Luke a serious look and nodded. “Let’s do this.”

 

“But what if we opened with like…” Ashton pushed his hair from his face. They were in the studio, having played through a few times, trying to figure out their arrangement. “What if you guys opened with the F chords. Like one-and, four-and. Know what mean? And Calum, in between you could do like a first fret F. Just eighth notes. Does anyone hear what I’m hearing in my head or am I making no sense? Like…extra. Before we actually start the song.”

            Calum nodded. “No, I know exactly what you mean.”

            “You mean like…” Luke played a bit.

            “Yeah, just like that,” Ashton said.

            “Yeah, that’s awesome.”

            “For like, eight? And then we could build into my opening chords,” Michael said.

            “For another eight,” Ash said.

            Luke nodded. “That’s when you get to go crazy, Ash.”

            “Sweet.”

            “And then we’ll just jump into the ‘hey’ and Luke will start,” Calum said.

            “And that’s when _you_ turn up a bit,” Michael said to Calum. “And then I’ll do the chorus and you’ll do the harmonies.”

            Calum nodded. “Do you want the second verse?”

            “No, I think you should do it,” Michael said. “You have a better voice for that part.”

            “As long as I get to do the ‘you’s,” Luke said.

            Calum gave him a smile. “Yeah, he’s really good at those. Voice cracks a little.”

            “What?” Luke said, going a little red.

            “Yeah. It’s perfect. Mike and I will do backup.”

            “Fine with me,” Ashton said. “Then, what? Eight of instrumental?”

            “Sure. Then you do the third verse, Ash,” Michael said. “The low one.”

            “You sing?” Luke and Calum asked at the same time.

            Ashton smiled. “A little. Sometimes.”

            “Ash. I’ve _never_ heard you sing. In seven years.”

            “Oh, I have,” Michael said. “He’s really good.”

            Calum raised his eyebrows. “Well, if you want to.”

            “Sure, why not?”

            “And then we take it home. What if we ended on _That’s what I like about you_ instead of the ‘hey’s? Did a slow triplet?” Luke suggested.

            “Oh, yeah,” Calum said. “Let’s do it.”

            “Does anyone remember all of that?”

            “Eh. We’ll get it close enough,” Ashton said. “I’m counting you in. Ready?”

            They played, missing no chords, no parts, and hardly any notes, all the way through the second verse up until the instrumental. Which turned out to be a Michael solo.

            The other three kept playing along for the eight bars of lyric-less space while Michael absolutely shredded. At the last two bars be played really fast, fingers moving smooth across the frets, while Calum and Luke looked on wide-eyed and Ashton just tapped away, smiling at Michael. Michael finished the eighth bar and put vibrato on the last note.

            “Okay, okay. Hold up,” Calum said, putting up his hands. They all stopped. He put his hand out at Michael. “What the fuck?”

            Michael laughed. “Sorry.”

            “Where did that come from?” Luke asked.

            “From…my _soul_ ,” Michael said dramatically, then laughed again. “Just kidding. I don’t know, I just felt like soloing.”

            “Well, you have to do that for the show,” Luke said.

            Calum was shaking his head. “You’re so good. Wow.”

            “Is that the one you’re getting?” Ashton asked, referring to the Gibson Joan Jett Blackheart in Michael’s hands.

            “Definitely,” Michael said. “If that’s okay.”

            “Whatever you want.”

            “Thank you so much.”

            Ashton threw a kiss. Michael closed his eyes and turned his face up.

            “All right. Enough. You’re soloing. It’s final,” Calum said.

            “Okay,” Michael said, grinning.

            “Should we start over?” Luke said. “I want to hear Ash sing.”

            “Yeah, let’s run it again.” Ashton counted in, and they started over.

            Calum watched Luke as they played, falling further and further as Luke strummed and moved his hips and smiled so big. His bones tingled when Luke sang; his heart swelled when Luke stared at him when _he_ sang. He played and he listened and he fell and he loved.

 

They came out of the studio, Ashton and Alex carrying the kit pieces back to the display.

            “God, this bass is amazing.” Calum said. “I’m getting it. At some point.”

            “What month is it?” Luke asked.

            “November.”

            “What day is your birthday?”

            Calum turned his head, side-eyeing Luke. “The twenty-fifth.”

            Luke tilted his head back and forth. “Two months is a good bit of time.”

            “No, Luke.”

            “You can help.”

            “Buy your own guitar.”

            “I would if I had the money.”

            “Exactly.”

            “Let’s hang these up before we do something rash.”

            Calum laughed. “Good idea.”

            They hung up the instruments and went to help Ashton with the kit. Michael was still holding the new guitar, babying it, tuning the strings to absolute perfection. When the kit was away, they came over and got Michael.

            “Come on. Let’s go make that thing yours,” Ashton said.

            Michael grinned.

            They went to the counter, and Alex stepped behind it to ring up the tag that Michael had already pulled off the neck of the guitar. “You guys sounded awesome. That’s a wicked arrangement.”

            “Thanks,” Calum said.

            “All right,” Alex said, tapping the keyboard on the computer and swiping the barcode on the tag. “I like the Blackheart myself.”

            Michael nodded. “Sounds so good.”

            “Feels good too, right?”

            “Like silk.”

            Alex smiled. “Okay. That’s gonna be—”

            “Just take it,” Ashton said, handing over his card.

            Alex plucked it from his fingers. “Understood.”

            “I’ll tell you later when I know you won’t get mad,” Michael said, leaning close to Ashton.

            Ashton shook his head. “I won’t be mad. Just broke. Happy birthday.”

            “Thanks,” Michael said, and Calum could tell Michael was politely holding himself back until he and Ashton were alone again. Probably a good decision, even though Alex seemed completely accepting of everything.

            “Here you go,” Alex said, handing Ashton his card back and Michael the receipt. “You know the policy and everything.”

            Ashton nodded. “Please don’t smash it, okay?”

            Michael laughed. “I promise.”

            “Then that’s it,” Alex said. “You’re good to go.”

            “Thank you for letting us use the studio,” Calum said and shook Alex’s hand again.

            “Any time. Ash and I go way back.”

            Luke gave Ashton a look. “Student council in high school,” Ashton said, grinning.

            Luke was baffled. This guy? In student council? Ash maybe but…all right. “Cool,” he said. “Nice to meet you, Alex.”

            “You too.” He turned back to Ashton. “See you around, man.” He and Ashton hugged again.

            “Thanks again,” Ashton said.

            “Thank you!” Michael said, still buzzing, holding his guitar like a child.

            “Careful with that thing,” Alex called after them as they walked out.

            “He will be,” Ashton said over his shoulder.

            The four of them left Therapy.

            “Well, that went super well,” Calum said as they walked out to the cars.

            “I think everyone will love it,” Ashton said.

            “Ash, unlock it,” Michael said, holding the door handle and bouncing on his feet.

            “Michael, I know you’re excited but be polite.”

            Michael turned to Luke and Calum. “Sorry. Thanks for wanting me to play with you guys.”

            “Of course,” Luke said.

            “Yeah,” Calum gave him a fist bump. “You’re gonna kill that solo. I’m really excited.”

            Ashton nodded. “Well, we’ll see you guys—oh, wow. On Friday. For Feldmann. For real this time.”

            Luke nodded slowly, glancing at Calum. Calum looked all right. He was chewing his lip, but otherwise seemed okay. Apparently their morning took away his nerves. That was good.

            “That came up quick, didn’t it?” Luke said. “It’s going to go really well.”

            “I can already predict the final pair,” Ashton said.

            “Ash, the _door_ ,” Michael whined.

            Ashton rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine.” He unlocked the car and Michael jumped in, pulling his guitar in carefully with him, holding it between his legs.

            “Bye guys!” he said, and shut the door.

            Ashton shook his head. “See you around.”

            Calum and Luke nodded, smiling.

            “Bye, Ashton.”

            “Bye, Ash.”

            Ashton waved and got in the car.

            So did Calum and Luke. Calum looked into Ashton’s car as Luke buckled up and turned the car on. Michael had already leaned over and started making out with Ashton. Calum supposed it was the first of many thank yous. And speaking of…

            Calum tapped Luke on the shoulder, making him turn his head toward him. He leaned over and kissed Luke quickly on the mouth. “Thanks for letting us do that. Let’s go back to your place and order a pizza for a bit later and watch a movie or something.”

            Luke suddenly had a rush of okay-ness. All at once, being here with Calum, he felt like everything was going to be just fine. They’d left the apartment and been fine, and Calum still felt…well, loving, he supposed, toward him. He felt the same for Calum. He’d thought that maybe leaving the apartment would turn out bad—that a friend vibe would take over in place of the romantic one. But it hadn’t. And Luke realized that he was glad they’d gone out—he’d had a break from the tension and the awkwardness and had done something he loved with two people he loved and one more who he was sure he’d come to love if he got to know him better. Everything felt just fine. The visit to Alex’s music shop had been— _Here I go,_ he thought—almost therapeutic.

            He looked at Calum. “Yes. Let’s.”

            Calum laughed softly. “Okay. You have the steering wheel.”

            “Oh yeah. Okay.” Luke pulled out of the parking lot and drove back to his apartment.

 

Luke had finally gotten comfortable enough to snuggle up to Calum, tucking his feet up on the couch and resting his head on Calum’s shoulder. But halfway through _Wall-E_ and a cheese pizza, Luke wasn’t feeling cuddly anymore. He was feeling like all he wanted to feel was Calum’s weight on top of him. He didn’t know why. Maybe he’d just had a really good day.

            He reached over to the coffee table for the remote and hit pause.

            “What is it?” Calum asked.

            “I want to go again.”

            “Where? The music shop?”

            “No, Calum. _Go_.”

            Calum raised his eyebrows. “Oh. Well—”

            “Just do it.”

            Calum stared at him for a moment, wondering where this was coming from. Wondering how Luke had changed and become so confident so quickly. Maybe going to the store had been a better idea than he’d first thought. He definitely wasn’t complaining.

            He turned Luke sideways, leaning his shoulders against the arm of the couch. Luke stretched his legs out and Calum straddled them, pulling Luke’s shirt off, and then his own.

            “God. You’re gorgeous,” Luke breathed.

            Calum leaned down at attacked him, kissing him so he couldn’t breathe and biting his lip and grinding his hips against him. Luke pushed his hips up to meet him, bringing his hands up and grabbing at Calum’s lower back. He felt fire in his stomach. He put his hands underneath himself and pushed up, trying to switch their positions, but Calum pulled his lips away, put a hand on Luke’s chest, and pushed him back.

            “We have to go back to the bedroom.”

            Luke huffed. This was ruining the spontaneity. “Why? Can’t we just—”

            “Because it’ll hurt.”

            Oh yeah. Fuck. “Carry me?”

            Calum thought for a moment. “Okay, but take your pants off first.”

            Luke didn’t really know why, but he’d do as Calum said. Calum climbed off him and Luke pulled his pants and boxer briefs off. He was surprised to find that he wasn’t in the least embarrassed or insecure like he’d been this morning. Calum had said he loved his body, and he actually believed him. He put his arms out.

            Calum stepped forward and bent down a little, wrapping his arms around Luke’s upper thighs and picking him up. “Start unbuttoning my jeans,” he said, and he started for the bedroom.

            Luke wrapped his left arm around Calum and used his right hand to reach between his legs and undo Calum’s button and zipper part of the way.

            They got to the bedroom. Luke expected Calum to throw him down on the bed, but Calum stopped in the middle of the floor. He reached behind himself, hooked his thumb into his jeans and his underwear and started pulling them off. Luke moved his legs a little so Calum could wiggle his hips out of the waistband and then kick his pants off the rest of the way. Luke could feel the muscles in Calum’s back moving again. It was making him hot inside even more than he already was.

            Calum took a few steps toward the bedside table. “You do it,” he said.

            Luke looked in his eyes for a moment, trying to figure out what he meant, and then he understood. He leaned down, Calum somehow holding him up without even a twitch of weakness, and pulled the little bottle of lube that they’d used two nights ago out from the drawer in the table. He squeezed some into his palm, then clicked it closed and tossed it back in the drawer. He brought his hand between their bodies and wrapped it around Calum, covering him completely. He had an idea of why Calum had already had him take his pants off, of why Calum hadn’t thrown him onto the bed. He squeezed Calum once and then let him go.

            Calum immediately turned and pushed Luke up against a wall, smirking up at him. Calum lifted Luke, and then sat him back down around him and thrust hard. Luke gasped loudly, his slick hand coming down to press against the wall, then wrapping around Calum’s back and holding on as tight as he could. Calum’s thrusts were hard and deep. And then Calum brought one hand out from underneath him and up between them. He pressed his thumb and forefinger at Luke’s base and squeezed as he drew his hand up. Luke made a strangled noise back in his throat, clenching his eyes shut and gripping onto Calum’s back. Calum thrust hard again and it sent electricity up Luke’s spine. His eyes flew open and he looked down and saw Calum’s dirty smirk again, a bead of sweat running down his left temple. Luke brought one hand up to Calum’s hair and pulled, tilting Calum’s head back, making him hiss through his teeth.

            “S-sorry,” Luke said. But Calum only thrust harder, and Luke bent forward and shoved his tongue in Calum’s mouth like he’d meant to do. It got to the point where neither of them could breathe again, so Luke just rested his forehead on Calum’s while Calum continued to pump his hand around him and push into him. Shockwaves traveled through him with each of Calum’s thrusts, and he could feel everything getting ready to tip over the edge.

            Two more pushes of Calum’s hips and Luke was done. A sound tore from his chest, and he came hard enough for some of it to get on the underside of Calum’s chin. He crumpled forward with a sound like a single sob and pressed his face into Calum’s neck. Calum was still moving when Luke finally finished completely. And then Luke could feel Calum spilling into him and he had a sudden thought, and he was glad he’d already come because it ruined his mood completely.

            He waited for Calum to slow down and stop. They held onto each other and breathed for a moment. Luke knew he had to ask, as much as it made him feel weird and gross.

            “Calum?”

            “Yes?” He turned his face upward and gazed into Luke’s eyes.

            “Are you…clean?”

            Luckily, Calum just laughed. “Yes. We would have been using condoms this whole time if I wasn’t absolutely sure. I got tested.”

            Luke sighed in relief and let his head fall forward to press into Calum’s again. “Okay. Good. Me too.”

            “That was a nice way to end that,” Calum said, eyebrows raised and a weird smile on his face.

            Luke sighed again. “I’m sorry. I was just worried. But…that was incredible.”

            “Yeah?” Now Calum carried him to the bed and rested him gently down onto his back, crawling over him again.

            “Yeah. You’re…very strong.”

            Calum smirked again, and shrugged. “I guess so.”

            “I couldn’t do that to you.”

            “Well, you’ll just have to try some time.”

            “I already dropped you once.”

            Calum bit his lip and looked back and forth between Luke’s ocean eyes. He sat back and pulled Luke up to sit in front of him. He leaned forward, took Luke’s face softly in his hands, and kissed his nose. The dimple in his chin. His mouth. And then he said, “I love you, Luke.”

            And, immediately, Luke said, “I love you, too.”

            They kissed each other, slow and passionate, for a long time.

            “I wish you didn’t have to leave tomorrow,” Luke whispered eventually.

            Calum kissed him again. “But I’m not _leaving_.”

            Luke nodded. “I know. I’m…still amazed but so glad.”

            “Amazed that I want to be with you?”

            Luke nodded again.

            “Is it my turn to tell you everything I think? Give you your pep talk?”

            “No, you already told me what you like about me. You compliment me all the time and it’s overwhelming but I really do love it, even though I don’t accept them very well.”

            Calum cleared his throat, put his hands together, and looked right in Luke’s eyes. “Luke—I’m sorry, Lucas Hemmings.” Luke was already blushing. Calum smiled. “I adore you. I’ve said these things before, but you’ve made me smart, you’ve made me confident, you’ve made me realize my potential as a student, you’ve made me break out of my bubble, you’ve made me try new things, you’ve made me learn new things, you’ve made me shiver, you’ve made me gasp, you’ve made me wake up in the middle of the night and wish you were up with me, you’ve made me laugh and smile more than I have in a long time. You’ve made me happy. You’ve made me fall in love entirely unwittingly and I have absolutely no complaints about that whatsoever. You don’t even try, and you’ve made me never want to leave you. I’m going tomorrow, but I’m not leaving. And I will come back every night if that’s what it takes to make you understand. Cross my heart.” He drew an X on his chest. “I love you. That’s all. That’s everything.”

            Luke’s lip trembled.

            “And if you cry you’ll make me cry, too.”

            “I—I’m not. I promise.” Luke looked up and blinked back his tears. He sniffed. “Okay. Okay, I’m fine. I…thank you.”

            Calum kissed him one more time. “What should we do now? It’s only, what, four?”

            “We can finish the movie?”

            Calum brightened. “Oh yeah! We have to see them plant the…the plant.”

            Luke giggled. “That’s the best part. Except when all the fat people are rolling around on the ship when they fall off their chairs.”

            Calum shoved his shoulder lightly. “What are you, twelve?”

            “It’s funny!”

            “All right. Let’s go.”

            “Can we, like, clean off first? You’ve got a little something on your chin.”

            “Oh yeah.” He looked down at himself. “Right.”

            They cleaned and put on fresh shirts and underwear and went to finish the movie and watch another one after that, Calum lying propped against two pillows and Luke sitting between his legs so Calum could play with his hair like he loved so much to do.

            When the second movie was over, Calum looked down to find Luke had drifted off. He petted Luke’s head, whispering his name until Luke mumbled and let Calum get up.

            Calum threw out the pizza box and washed their glasses. He went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. He went to lie in bed, leaving the lights on for Luke. After ten minutes, he saw Luke walk into the bathroom to get ready for bed. Then he came and stood in the doorway. Calum looked over at him.

            “ _Turn the lights off, I’m in love,_ ” Calum sang.

            Luke smiled and flicked the light switch, making it dark. He came to the bed, laid down in front of Calum, and kissed him for a while again. And he sang, too: “ _I’m yours and you’re mine, if you like it or not._ ”

            “That’s The Brobecks, too!” Calum said.

            Luke nodded. “I’ve been listening to them because of you. I like every single one of their songs.”

            “My favorite is “Better Than Me”. The bassline is fantastic.”

            “I like “I Will, Tonight”.”

            Calum nodded. “They have a serious knack for making really sad lyrics sound really happy with the music.” He paused, feeling Luke’s breath on his nose. “That one is all about being alone. Or really, without someone… Do you relate to that?”

            Luke sighed softly. “I do. Or, I did. When I first came to the university for undergrad, I didn’t really have anyone and the friends I had made earlier in life didn’t stay. Thank God I met Ashton, or I don’t know what I would have done to myself. He’s kept me going these seven years. He saved my life.”

            Calum remembered how kind and funny Ashton had been when he went to talk to him. He had acted like Calum was a long time friend, and now he figured they _were_ friends. He could understand how Luke must have felt when Ashton had come into his life. He sent a thank you out to Ashton, for both himself and for Luke.

            Then Luke said, “And now I have you. Everything’s better.”

            Calum blinked at him and put his right hand up to Luke’s face. “I don’t know what to say but…I’m glad I can make you happy.”

            “You make me _so_ happy.”

            Calum smiled, leaning his forehead against Luke’s one more time. “ _Darkened nights and violent things…_ ”

            “ _All of these are the prettiest things when I’m…_ ”

            They kissed again.

            “I thought you said love at first sight was dead,” Calum said,

            Luke rolled his eyes. “Not the song. That’s just coincidence.”

            “Mm.”

            “Can I be the little spoon?” Luke asked, yawning.

            Calum laughed. “Of course.”

            Luke rolled over and Calum draped his hand over his side.

            “Oh,” Luke said.

            “What?”

            “You…never gave me that thing you said. This morning.”

            “You mean the blowjob.”

            “I was trying not to say it. It’s okay though. I just want to lay here with you.”

            “I think we made up for that. But if you’re sure.” He squeezed closer to Luke.

            Luke smiled to himself. “Mhm.”

            Calum kissed the back of Luke’s neck. “Good night, Luke.”

            “Good night, Calum.”


	17. Sunday Morning

Calum’s arm was completely numb the next morning, bent between his chest and Luke’s back. He didn’t care. Luke was still asleep. And as much as he wanted to do everything he could with Luke before he had to go, he wasn’t going to wake Luke up.

            He waited for nearly half an hour before Luke finally drew in a deep breath and brought his hands up to his eyes.

            Luke started to roll onto his back and felt himself squishing Calum. “Oh. Jesus. This keeps happening.” He scooted over and looked at Calum. “I keep, like, hitting you or something in my sleep.”

            Calum smiled. “It’s Sunday.”

            Luke dropped his hands to his chest and nodded. “I know.”

            “What do you want to do before I go?”

            “Just lay here with you.”

            “You don’t want to…” He wiggled his head a little.

            Luke smiled tiredly. “We’ll see.”

            “All right. Whatever you want. My arm is dead.”

            Luke turned on his side to face him and picked Calum’s arm up. He brought Calum’s palm to his face and kissed it, then held Calum’s hand.

            “Well,” Calum said, “that would be really sweet if I could feel—”

            Luke started shaking his arm, and it woke up right away and turned into that weird tickling feeling and then pins and needles.

            “Luke, what the heck?” he said, laughing. He pulled his arm away and held it against his chest.

            “Better?”

            “Yeah. It’s a good thing you didn’t dislocate my shoulder. What’s…you’re so weird.”

            “I change my mind. Can we make breakfast again? And play music on the TV?”

            Calum smiled, opening and closing his fingers. “Anything.”

            “I want to hear old jazz. And I want French toast.”

            “I know a great recipe,” Calum said, and gave him a kiss. “You have bananas, right?”

            “I do.”

            “Then you’re gonna love these.”

            “Let’s go. I know just what to play.” He grabbed his phone from his charger and went out to the TV. Calum went into the kitchen and set up a pan and started scrambling eggs in a bowl.

            A saxophone started playing slow from the living room. “What’s this?” Calum called.

            Luke came into the kitchen behind him and wrapped his arms around him. “It’s Sonny Rollins. “I’ve Grown Accustomed to Your Face”.”

            Calum laughed softly, truly enjoying how comfortable Luke had come to be with him. “Interesting name.”

            Luke kissed under his ear and let him go, hoisting himself on the counter next to the stove. “I like watching you cook.”

            “I’m not very good.”

            “I don’t think you can mess up French toast.”

            Calum dipped a slice of bread in the eggwash and went to put it in the pan. It dripped all the way there and got on the burner. He plopped it in the pan and shook his head. “Oh, yes you can. _I_ can.”

            “It’ll be great.”

            “Can you get the syrup?”

            “Mhm.” Luke jumped down and went to the fridge and got the bottle of maple syrup. He also got two plates.

            Calum flipped the bread and started to slice bananas.

            “Those go on top?” Luke asked.

            “Yeah. It’s so good.”

            “I’m excited. Anything I can help with?”

            “Well, once this one’s done you can put it on a plate and get whatever bananas you want while I start some more.”

            “All right. Drink?”

            “Water, please.”

            “Boring.”

            “Well, what are you having?”

            “…Water.”

            Calum shook his head.

            They talked and moved around each other like they’d been doing it for a long time. Three days had changed everything, and for the better, Luke thought. He didn’t feel awkward and shy anymore. He certainly wasn’t insecure around Calum. And he was _so_ happy. He couldn’t remember being this happy since he and Ashton had gone to Scotland two years ago in celebration of getting their theses approved—a three-day hike in the highlands and all the drinks they could manage for the rest of the week. And as incredible as that had been, this was still so much better.

            The song changed. They finished making their food, and they sat together on the couch and talked about nothing much.

            “You know,” Luke said at one point. “I forgot to tell you. Feldmann is themed.”

            “Mm?” Calum said, mouth full.

            “Yeah. So you know how it’s like a championship, so you start of with lots of groups and work your way to the final two. The whole thing is themed, so every topic you get will have to do somewhat with the same thing. Like, politics, or science, or something like that.”

            “God, I hope it’s not politics.”

            “You did such a good job, though.”

            “I just pulled that out of thin air. I was lucky to have thought of the book.”

            “You’re going to do amazing.”

            “Thanks.” He smiled at Luke. “Anyway, that’s kind of cool. A bit of an advantage, actually.”

            “How’s that?”

            Calum shrugged. “Well, if you have a general idea of what the topic might be, you can start thinking about all the things you know about that topic that you might be able to use in the next round. I mean…I hope I make it past the first round.”

            “You’re going to be debating Michael in the final round.”

            Calum snorted. “If you say so.”

            “Calum.”

            Calum rolled his eyes.

            “Stop that.”

            “Well, Mike will definitely be there but I don’t know about—”

            “I said stop it.”

            Calum clinked his fork down on his plate and looked right at Luke. “I’m trying not to jinx it.”

            “Ohhh. Sorry.” He laughed, Calum side-eyeing him.

            “Thank you.”

            “See. You are confident.”

            “Shhh.”

            “Okay, okay.”

            They sat in a comfortable silence while they finished their food.

            “What time is it?” Luke asked.

            Calum looked at the clock on the wall. “Ten-thirty.”

            “What time do you have to go?”

            “I don’t know. I should probably get back and do work. Finals start Wednesday, you know.”

            “Mm. Hey, at least you don’t have one for my class.”

            “Yes I do. It’s called Feldmann.”

            “Right right.” He nodded.

            “But that was my choice. And I’m very excited.”

            “Could you stay until two?”

            Calum sighed, smiling at him. “I suppose I could.”

            “What should we do?”

            “I thought you had something in mind.”

            Luke shook his head. “We only have three and a half hours.”

            “Only?”

            Luke crawled across the couch and kissed Calum. They ended up cleaning the kitchen then going back into the bedroom. Luke made love to Calum, and it was soft and easy and light. Jamie Cullum’s “If I Ruled the World” played quietly from the speakers.

            They lay there talking, kissing, giving each other light touches, for three hours. And then Calum said he had to get ready to leave.

            “Please don’t get up from this bed,” Luke whispered.

            “You know I’ll be back.”

            “When?”

            “Soon.”

            “When?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “Friday? After the show?”

            Calum smiled. “Of course. That’s when the semester ends. Christmas break.”

            Luke smiled at the thought of the time off from school and what that could mean for them. “Yeah.”

            Calum got up, pulled on a pair of underwear and shorts, and started putting all his things away in his bag. “And I’ll certainly see you Tuesday in class. No class Thursday, though.” He looked over his shoulder at Luke and stuck his lip out.

            “Class doesn’t count.” He sat up and just watched Calum, loving his messy curly hair and his shoulders and his back. “Class is going to be really hard, actually.”

            “Why?”

            “Because I’ll have to just force myself not to look at you the whole time and talk to you and be with you.”

            Calum chuckled. “Well, after Tuesday I won’t have your class anymore.”

            Luke didn’t say anything. Yes, he knew that much. He’d thought about it a bit before, at night when he was trying to sleep and Calum was holding him loosely. He’d thought about how Calum’s schedule for school and football was only going to get harder, only going to get more busy, especially with the actual season starting next semester. And how Calum would no longer be forced to see him like he was when he had to come to class. Calum could disappear if he wanted to. Calum had no reason to see him if he didn’t want to see him. They’d have to keep their connection or things might simply drift away.

            “Calum, where’s your phone?”

            “It’s on the table.”

            Luke reached across the bed and picked it up. He hit the home button and saw himself, sitting curled up on the couch looking at his phone. The light from the living room window cast slats over his face and lit up one of his eyes. He remembered sitting there Friday, not being able to see his phone well. He remembered complaining about the sun and looking up to see Calum standing in the middle of the room, looking at his own phone. Setting this picture, he understood now.

            “Oh…”

            “It’s a good one, isn’t it,” Calum said, facing away. “Passcode is three nine four six.”

            “All right.” He typed it in and went to Calum’s contacts, added himself, and texted himself.

            “Put your number in?” Calum asked.

            “Mhm.” He handed Calum his phone.

            “Good. I’ve been meaning to ask you to do that.”

            _Thank goodness_. _Not weird, then_. “Will you call me later?”

            Calum turned to face him and put his hands on his hips. “You’re not going to be clingy are you?”

            Luke grinned. “Maybe.”

            “Yeah, I’ll call you. Well, I might text you.”

            “That’s fine.”

            “You use emojis a lot, don’t you.”

            Luke blushed. “Maybe…”

            “What’s your favorite one?”

            “The eggplant.”

            Calum stared at him. “The eggplant. What the fuck.”

            Luke laughed. “I like it!”

            “You know why people use that one, right?”

            Luke rolled his eyes. “Well that’s not…I don’t use it for that. I just like it. It’s funny.”

            “I don’t even understand you.”

            “I love you.”

            Calum rolled his eyes, smiling. “I love you, too. I have to go.”

            Luke pouted. “But it’s one forty-five. You’re early.”

            “You sound like Ashton talking to Michael.”

            “Well, we’re basically them now, aren’t we?”

            Calum nodded. “I suppose we are. I like it.” He picked up his bag and put it over his shoulder. “Walk me to the door?”

            Luke sighed. “Okay.”

            He got up and he walked behind Calum to the door to the outside.

            He stepped in front of Calum when the got there, blocking his way. “Bye, Calum.”

            “If I ever make it to the door.”

            Luke kissed him again, cupping his jaw one last time before he went back to his dorm a few miles away. He wanted to make sure Calum knew how he felt. He knew Calum knew but he just…needed Calum to stay. Not here in the apartment but with him. He was still worried about the end of the semester. But he had Calum’s phone number. He had Calum’s love. Maybe that would be enough. He pulled away.

            “Goodbye, Luke.” He kissed Luke’s nose.

            Luke stepped out of the way. Calum took the door handle and turned it. He opened the door and stepped through the threshold. Luke watched him, and he felt no disconnection, no tearing of what linked them together. Everything was okay.

            “I’ll text you later?” Calum said, smiling.

            “I’ll answer.”

            “Good. Bye, Luke.” He walked away.

            Luke closed the door quietly. He turned and looked around the living room. No trace of Calum anywhere. No forgotten piece of clothing, no dishes left out. He passed by the kitchen, and there was nothing. And nothing in the bathroom. All that was left was the ghost of an indentation in the bed. Just as Calum had said there would be.

            Luke went over and made the bed, smoothing out the covers, fluffing the pillow on Calum’s side, forcing himself not to smell it.

            He went back out into the living room and sat on his end of the couch. He looked over and Calum wasn’t there. But Luke felt okay.

            He opened his phone, saw the text he’d sent himself from Calum’s phone, and added the number into his contacts. He wished he had a picture of Calum. Maybe he would get one soon. Maybe on Friday, when Calum was in his fancy clothes. Actually, he didn’t want that. He wanted Calum, not Feldmann. He wanted Calum in his skinny jeans and his _Nimrod_ t-shirt and his hair a little messy. He could wait. That would be just fine.

            Because everything felt okay.


	18. Two Talks

On Tuesday evening, Luke picked up a call from Ashton.

            “Yeah?”

            “Let’s get drinks.”

            “Where?”

            “My place?”

            “Sure. Why?”

            “I’ve got something to tell you.”

            “All right. Be there in ten.”

            He got in his car and drove over.

 

“What news?” he said, stepping through the door to Ashton’s apartment.

            “Come in and let me mix you a drink and then I’ll tell you.”

            Ashton had a huge grin on his face, and maybe that was just his personality, but it meant that the news was good news—celebratory drinks, not washing-away drinks.

            “Make me a Captain on the rocks,” Luke said, following Ashton to his bar counter.

            “How fancy.”

            Luke shrugged. “I’m a simple man. Tell me the news.”

            Ashton poured Luke’s drink and had the same thing himself because he was too excited to waste any more time mixing.

            “I submitted my thesis last week.”

            “You did?” It hit Luke what Ashton was about to tell him. “Ash…did it—are you—?”

            “The board accepted it this morning. I’m getting my Master’s degree.”

            “Ashton!” He put his drink down and hugged Ashton hard. “That’s awesome! I’m so jealous. And so proud of you. I knew you’d finish way before me. You’re brilliant. Of course they accepted it.”

            Ashton blushed. “Thanks. I’m so glad I’m done. I’m so tired.”

            Luke laughed. “I would be, too.”

            “And you still have to finish yours.”

            Luke shook his head and put up his drink. Ashton held his up too, and they just looked at each other for a second and then drank. “So what’s the next step?”

            “Professor. PhD. Chair.”

            “Of course you’re getting your PhD. You think you’re tired now.”

            Ashton nodded. “I know. Are you not getting one?”

            Luke shrugged. “I don’t know yet. If they let me be a professor after my Master’s—if they take it—then probably not. I’ll have everything I wanted.”

            “They’ll take it. And you’ll be a professor.”

            Luke smiled. “I hope so. God, I’m so proud of you.” He hugged Ashton again.

            “Thank you, Luke.” He rubbed Luke’s back. “Now you just have to catch up.”

            Luke pulled back. “You’ll always be miles ahead of me. As hard as I try to be you, I’ll never get there.”

            “Please don’t be me. We don’t need another me. We need one of you. Your awkward and your complacency. I’ll always be searching but you’ll be happy.”

            Luke shrugged. “Never thought of complacency as a good thing, but.”

            “It is. Let’s get drunk.”

            Luke laughed.

            They did.

 

“Have you told Michael, then?” Luke asked, flopping his head over to look at Ashton from their usual places on the couch.

            “Yep. Called him first.”

            Luke put on a lazy smile. “Course you did. He’s better than me.”

            Ashton squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Nooo. I love him but I love you and you’ve been my friend forever.”

            Luke’s eyes cleared a little. “I _knew_ you loved him. Love or _in_ love?”

            Ashton took a deep breath and rubbed his face, giggling, remembering when he’d asked Luke the same thing not all that long ago. “In love. Way in love. In so deep the only light I can see anymore is him.”

            Luke stared up at the ceiling. “Oh man.”

            “Yeah.” Ashton grinned. “But that’s just fine. I’m so happy. I hope he loves me too.”

            “He definitely does.”

            “What about Calum?”

            “What about—am I in love with him? Yes. He says he fell in love with me too. Or is still. I’m not sure yet. After we fu—I mean… On Saturday he told me—”

            Ashton was laughing so hard, doubling forward, loopy.

            “What?” Luke asked.

            “You almost said fucked.”

            Luke smacked him weakly. “So?”

            “So you did then.”

            Luke shook his head and put his foot on up the coffee table, almost knocking down an empty glass. “I mean…yeah. Well, it was more like he fucked me. We had sex twice and he fucked me once and we made love once.”

            “You did it four—”

            “Oh, and he gave me a blowjob.”

            Ashton cracked up again.

            Luke turned bright red. “I can’t believe I just told you that.”

            “Alcohol will do that, won’t it?” He wiped a tear away from his eye. “Good job, Luke. Good haul.”

            Luke shook his head. “I don’t think of it like that. It just _happened_ every time, you know?” His face softened a little. “The first night—Thursday—he said we were levitating. That was beautiful. I remember it so well. His hands on my back and…and then the last time, before he left on Sunday—” He squinted, feeling annoying drunk tears welling in his eyes. _Stop it_. “That was after he told me he loved me. And I’m pretty sure he meant in love. The way he kisses me makes me feel like he means in love. Ashton, I’m afraid.” He turned at once, staring into Ashton’s eyes.

            Ashton saw the look on Luke’s face and tried to tell his mind to clear. “What’s wrong?”

            “I’m scared for after this week is over.”

            Ashton understood. It was time to get serious, drowned nerves or not. He pulled his feet up on the couch and faced Luke full on. “Well…how do you think it will go? When the semester ends?”

            “I…well, you and Michael made it work between semesters. Right?”

            “Yes but he still had a class with me.” Luke watched his face suddenly fall as he realized he was in just the same position as Luke himself was.

            The semester was going to end very soon. Feldmann and the fundraiser would happen and then that was it. Both boys would be moving on to higher courses, out of the range where Luke and Ashton were allowed to teach at this point. Well, Ashton would likely be a professor very soon but… Who knew if they would even stay in debate? If they did, lovely, but if not, that was their decision and both Luke and Ashton would respect and be happy for them either way. And then the year after that they’d be graduating. No way they would stay here, right? It was luck and maybe something stronger that had kept both Luke and Ashton here together after undergrad. Well, maybe Calum and Michael would do grad school here. But maybe they wouldn’t do grad school at all, or maybe they would go somewhere else entirely. Maybe they—

            “You’re thinking too hard again,” Ashton said.

            Luke looked up and saw that Ashton had resigned to something in his mind.

            Ashton took a deep breath and let it out. “That’s the future. Honestly, I think we’ll be fine when the semester ends. I don’t think much will change after this week. I mean…can’t know for sure but…”

            “No. We can’t.”

            “No.”

            “And we won’t until it happens.”

            “That’s the only sure thing.”

            “That we don’t know.”

            “Right.”

            “But we love them.”

            “They love us.”

            Luke smiled and looked at his fingers, which he had been carefully picking at since Ashton had turned to face him. “When did we turn into Jane Austen?”

            “Your fingers, Luke.” Ashton smiled.

            Luke put his hands under his legs and smiled back.

            “We’re going to be okay. All of us. Whatever happens happens.”

            Neither of them wanted to think about the future. They had everything they wanted right now, aspirations or not. That was what mattered. The two who loved them and their love for each other was what mattered. Everything else would come with time.

 

…

 

“How is the new guitar, by the way?” Calum asked, nodding over to the Blackheart on its stand in the corner of Michael’s room.

            “Oh, it’s great. I still can’t believe Ash got it for me.”

            Michael had invited Calum to hang out with him Thursday night. They’d essentially ended up walking around campus for an hour, talking, and then had gone back to Michael’s dorm and played video games for another two. Now they were just sitting across from each other on Michael’s bed, sipping beers.

            “He won’t get mad you put those Xs on it?” Calum asked.

            Michael smiled. “I can’t remember the last time Ashton got mad. About anything—me or something else. He just doesn’t.”

            “Yeah. He seems like a perpetually happy person.”

            “He is. He’s wonderful.”

            “I’m glad I met him. Both of you.” Calum put his bottle out a little and drank.

            Michael returned it. “Me too.”

            “Are you excited for—”

            “Do you think he loves me?” Michael asked.

            Calum looked up at him. “Ashton? Yes.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Absolutely. I think you love him, too.”

            Michael half-smiled. “I do. But we’ve never said it to each other.”

            “ _No_? That’s…I’m surprised.”

            “Yeah. We spend a lot of time together.”

            “And you’re so affectionate with each other all the time.”

            “And he lets me do crazy things to him and then he sends it all so softly back…”

            Calum blushed. He still adored their relationship so much. And now it reminded him of Luke. “You’re pretty much the perfect couple.”

            “And yet we haven’t said it.”

            “You should say it.”

            “I need to say it. He needs to know.”

            “He knows.”

            Michael bent his knees up to his chest. “You think so?”

            “You’ve told me this before and now I know it’s true: they way he looks at you. All the time, no matter what you’re doing. When you were hurt, when you were shredding on that new guitar he bought you—no small thing, to be sure—when you’re debating, when you’re just standing there. He knows. And he feels the same way.”

            Michael nodded. “I’ll tell him tomorrow. When we get home after Feldmann and everything.”

            “I think that’s a good idea.”

            “What about you and Luke?”

            Calum laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yeah. He said he’s loved me for a while now.”

            Michael nodded. “Told you.”

            Calum smiled. “And I said I loved him back and he just seemed so surprised. Like nobody could ever feel that way about him. It made me feel both incredible and awful. Like, wow, _I_ get to be the one that makes him feel this good but also wow, why is this the first time he’s had something like this? I mean, me too, but he’s five years older than me so you’d think…and he’s so amazing I don’t understand how people can resist him.”

            “I don’t think it’s them.”

            Calum raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

            Michael sipped his beer and thought for a second. “Okay, so I don’t know Luke very well, but I do know Ashton, and Ashton knows Luke the best out of probably anyone ever besides maybe his family. And he’s told me a bit about Luke—the way Luke is, how Luke was when they first met, all of that. And…I don’t think it’s other people that resist him. It’s _been_ him this whole time. And I’m not trying to insult him. That’s just the way he is. But…he let you in, Calum. From my understanding, you’re the first person since Ashton that he’s truly allowed into his life and into his head. And _that’s_ no small thing, to be sure.”

            Calum stared at him for a moment, then swallowed and looked at his hands. “Oh. I knew—he told me—that he didn’t have a lot of friends and that Ashton was, like, a real savior for him. But I didn’t know I was…” He shook his head. “I didn’t know.”

            “Have you seen him since this weekend?”

            “Just class on Tuesday.”

            “Did you talk?”

            “For a bit. I had football.”

            “But he was still the same with you in the classroom or on campus or whatever?”

            “Yeah. I guess he was. He’s gotten a lot more comfortable. It was like a switch flipped after we went to Therapy.”

            Michael nodded again. “Like I said, I don’t know him all that well, but I think that’s probably pretty big for him.”

            Calum nodded too. “He was just so nervous about every little thing before and now he’s not. I mean…I guess he likes me enough to be not weird.”

            Michael laughed a little. “He does. And he loves you.”

            “Same difference.”

            “No.”

            “No?”

            “No. You can like people without loving them, obviously. But you can also love people without liking them. Like, everything they do you think is stupid or ridiculous or just wrong and you don’t like the way they speak or walk and you know that you wouldn’t be or aren’t truly friends with them because they’re just so…problematic. But yet you love them so much you can’t get over it.”

            Calum gave him a look. “You don’t feel that way about—”

            “ _Ashton_? God, no. He’s everything to me. I love him and I like him and I adore him. He’s not perfect, but he’s pretty close.”

            “Luke’s definitely not perfect. Neither am I.”

            “It would be terrible if you were.”

            Calum nodded. “You’re very philosophical, Michael.”

            They giggled. “It’s the beer,” Michael said. “I’m a weird drunk.”

            “We’ve only had—” Calum glanced down to the floor next to the bed where their empty bottles were. “Oh. More than I thought.” He snorted laughter.

            “Yes, I am excited, to answer your question.”

            “Luke says we’re going to be the final pair.”

            “Don’t jinx it!”

            “That’s what I said!”

            They grinned. “Well, Ashton says so too. And honestly they’re probably right. We’re really good. And there’s only one senior doing it this year and he’s eh.”

            “What about that junior? The girl.”

            “Rachel?”

            “Yeah.”

            Michael stuck out his lip. “She could beat us, yeah. Watch it be you and her.”

            Calum scoffed. “Um, it would be _you_ and her.”

            “Nah. You’re all caught up now.”

            Calum shrugged. “I guess.”

            “Do you know what you want to do for, like, a job? Your major?”

            Calum blinked. He hadn’t thought about that in a long time. Everything for over a month had just been football, debate, and Luke. “No, actually.”

            “I think I’m going to do speech. Something with speech and international relations.”

            Calum made a flat face. “Of course you would. Fucking brilliant.”

            Michael almost blushed. “No…I just like the subject. And if I do speech I’ll get more of Ashton’s courses. If he becomes a professor anyway. He told me his Master’s thesis was accepted today, so that’s one step closer.”

            “Really? That’s great.”

            “Mhm. With all the work he puts into this there’s nothing that can stop him from being a professor. And chair eventually.”

            “That’s awesome. I haven’t even talked to Luke about what he wants to do.”

            Michael smirked. “I know what he wants to do. _Who_ he wants to—”

            “Mike, no.” Calum bent forward laughing, holding his bottle upright so it wouldn’t spill on Michael’s sheets. “Well…yeah. It’s a good thing the feeling’s mutual.”

            “How many times?”

            Calum snorted again and looked at the ceiling. “Um…four.”

            Michael scoffed. “Oh come on. You could have done _way_ better than that.”

            Calum’s eyes widened. “No! Listen, I don’t know what you take in the morning but I do not have it, okay. Like, you must wear Ashton out because you are just constantly on him.”

            “Do you think he’s complaining?” Michael calmly sipped his beer.

            Calum shook his head at him. “I suppose not. But Luke’s not…well, he did start it that one—no, why am I telling you? I’m entitled to a private life!”

            Michael laughed. “Let’s see. Three days, essentially. I’d say…ten?”

            Calum recoiled. “Holy shit.”

            “As an estimate.”

            “Michael what is wrong with you.”

            “Absolutely nothing.” He put his fist out for a bump but Calum only shook his head at him. He shrugged and drank his beer again. “Feldmann’s gonna go great.”

            “I hope so. I just want to impress Luke.”

            “You couldn’t make him more proud if you tried. That much I know.”

            Calum smiled and nodded. “I thought about sports science but now I’m not so sure.”

            “What? Oh. This conversation is all over the place.”

            “Maybe we should stop drinking.”

            Michael stared at him over his bottle as he took another sip.

            Calum laughed. “All right then. But yeah. I…I mean, I _love_ football. But doing this stuff makes me feel so smart. So good about myself. And I think I’m getting really good at psychology, too, so—”

            “You know what you should do? Cognitive psychology, and focus in on speech. Like, how we formulate words and sounds, but also how our brains develop arguments and speech patterns and learn languages and all of that stuff. I mean, just a suggestion.”

            Calum’s mouth was open a little and he told himself to close it. “That’s actually such a good idea.”

            Michael shrugged. “That’s what I’m for.”

            “No really. I could…I would love to do that. What’ll Luke think if I don’t do debate though?”

            “One: who says you have to stop? You need electives outside your major anyway. And two: I’m not sure he could care less about what you choose to do. Whatever it is, he’ll be proud of you. Especially something as advanced as that.”

            “Yeah. I should go see him before we go tomorrow. And who knows how long we’ll be together anyway. Just…realistically.”

            Michael raised his eyebrows at the sudden confession. But then he nodded. “I’d like to think Ash and I will be together for a long time.”

            “Oh, I don’t doubt that.”

            “But you and Luke?”

            Calum bit his lip. “I have no idea. We’ve only spent one weekend together. I mean, I _want_ to stay together for a long time, but who knows what will happen? Maybe he’ll get his degree and decide he wants to move to fucking Greenland.”

            “But Ashton is staying here.”

            Calum hummed. “Right. That’s a good point. Where there is Ashton, Luke.”

            “But what if _you_ want to move?”

            “I don’t. Yet, anyway.”

            “Well, that’s something, isn’t it.”

            “What about you?”

            Michael tilted his head a little. “I’m going to try to get into a good university here for grad school. Maybe Sydney or something. But if I can’t then I’ll just stay here.”

            “For Ashton?”

            Michael shrugged. “Yes. But I know that if I change my mind he’ll support me.”

            “But would he move with you?”

            Michael squinted his eyes shut and shook his head. “I don’t want to think about that right now. Can we just…change the subject?”

            Calum smiled softly. He didn’t really want to think too hard either. He needed to save his brain power to try and beat one of the smartest people he knew in a huge debate tomorrow evening. “Okay. Tell me about the day you started your first class with Ashton.”

            Michael put on a dreamy smile. “Well, let’s backtrack even further. Classes started in mid-May, and registration was the week before and my sign up date was on a Saturday. So, I guess it was the first weekend of May when I hit the registration button for his class and everything started…”

            Calum listened to him, smiling, drinking. He remembered seeing Luke for the first time—back when he was Professor Hemmings—and having absolutely no idea that any of this would happen, that he’d be sitting here telling his friend that he’d had sex with Luke four times and that they were in love with each other. If anyone had told him that back then, he would have said they were delusional. But he was so glad that it was all real. He had no idea what would come of this or what the future might be like. But he knew he had a good friend and a good partner in Luke, someone he both loved and liked so much. And he didn’t want to think about anything else right now. So he let himself be excited for tomorrow’s final debate, he let himself be so happy for Michael and Ashton as he listened to Michael’s story, and he let himself be in love with Luke, and that was all.


	19. Feldmann

“Oh…wow. You look…wow.”

            Calum stared at Luke as he stepped out of the bedroom in his all-black outfit for the debate, which started in just over an hour.

            “Good?” Luke said.

            “Yes. So good. So perfect. Can I take it all off?”

            Luke rolled his eyes. “No. Everything’s prim and smooth and I don’t want to look messy walking in there.”

            Calum walked over to him and started to push the jacket off his shoulders. “Please?”

            Luke grabbed his hands and held them down, grinning. “No, Calum.”

            Calum huffed and crossed his arms. “Fine.”

            Luke put his face close to Calum’s. “Good.”

            Calum licked the tip of Luke’s nose.

            “Oh—Calum!” Luke wiped the back of his hand across his face, leaning back. “Why?”

            “Because.”

            “Your tongue doesn’t belong on my nose.”

            Calum raised his eyebrows.

            Luke gave him a look. “That’s not what I meant.”

            “I know this doctor—Freud, his name is…”

            “Shut up.”

            “You.”

            “Then come here.”

            Calum sighed and rolled his eyes, pulling at Luke’s waist. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do.”

            “Don’t mess up my clothes.”

            Calum kissed him deeply. He started to bring his hands up but Luke pulled away an inch and said, “Or my hair.”

            Calum put his hands in Luke’s back pockets. “Is that okay?” He kissed Luke quickly.

            “I suppose.”

            But then Calum took his hands out and wrapped his arms around Luke instead, holding him tight, and put his chin on Luke’s shoulder. Luke returned the hug, not caring anymore if his jacket got a little crease in it.

            “I’m super excited and super nervous,” Calum said.

            “You’ll be amazing.”

            “I love you.”

            “I love you, too.”

            Calum pulled away. “Should we go?”

            “Probably.”

            “We should meet with Mike and Ashton before the whole thing starts.”

            Luke raised an eyebrow. “You know how Michael will be.”

            Calum nodded. “Oh yeah. I forgot. Scary as shit.”

            Luke laughed. “He really is, though. There’s like the goofy, guitarist, tells-us-every-little-detail-about-his-love-life Mike; and then there’s the stone cold, jet black, burn-through-your-soul-stare Michael during debate.”

            “I wish I had an alter ego.”

            “ _My name’s Blurryface._ ”

            “Hush. I have to focus. No getting songs stuck in my head.”

            “What’s to focus on? You don’t know the topic yet.”

            Calum made a face at him and shook his head. “You’re making me more nervous.”

            “I’m sorry.” Luke put his hands up and held Calum’s upper arms. “I swear. You’re going to do so well and if you don’t win who cares? But you’re going to win.”

            “Don’t—”

            “I know, I know. Don’t jinx it.” He gave Calum a soft smile. “It’s okay.”

            Calum took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay. All right. I’m…ready as I’ll ever be.”

            “Let’s go then.”

 

They arrived at Feldmann half an hour before the competition started. A few of the other student-teacher pairs were standing in the foyer as they walked in, including Ashton and Michael. Ashton was talking to and smiling cordially at the professors while Michael stood next to him, dressed in a pseudo-casual t-shirt and blazer—a darker all black than Luke’s—with newly black hair and that stony arrogant look back on his face.

            Calum smiled at the sight of the two of them, seemingly so different here but really not at all. He wondered if he and Luke seemed like that. He didn’t think so. He and Luke were inherently similar. That was what made them work so well.

            “You were right,” he said to Luke. “He’s back.”

            Luke looked at Michael and nodded. “Mhm. Let’s go talk to them.”

            “Luke!” Ashton said when they reached them, smiling at him and giving him a hug. Ashton lowered his voice and leaned in and said, “I’d hug you too Calum but I can’t even hug my own boyfriend because I’m a teacher so you’ll have to just settle for a handshake.”

            Calum laughed, liking how Ashton called Michael his boyfriend, and stuck his hand out. They shook. “Hey guys. Michael, you look very intimidating.”

            Michael shrugged.

            “Oh, come on, Michael. Break it for a second and just give them one smile,” Ashton said, nudging him.

            Michael gave them half a smile and said, “Rumour has it the theme is philosophy.”

            Luke raised his eyebrows and looked at Calum. Calum shrugged with a face that said _All right. Cool. Why not?_

“Cool,” Calum said.

“Where in the world did you hear that?” Ashton said to Michael, an incredulous look on his face.

            “All around the room in whispers.”

            Ashton scoffed. “Oh. Excuse me, I forgot you had supersonic hearing.”

            Michael broke his façade one more time and stuck his tongue out at Ashton. And then he put his hands behind his back and straightened and returned to beneath the red curtain.

            “We’ve only got fifteen minutes,” Luke said. He wanted to wrap his arm around Calum’s waist but he knew they were in public—and amongst important people to this department as well. So he didn’t. “Jesus. I’m so nervous.”

            In fact, he was jittery with nerves, like he usually was just before things really started happening. And to think that earlier he’d thought he’d be okay and Calum wouldn’t. Ashton and Michael of course looked completely fine; he looked at Calum again and Calum seemed to be doing okay as well. Was he really the only one that got weird about this stuff?

            “I can tell,” Ashton said, grinning at him. “I remember you practically falling apart with nerves back when we were here. But, Lucas, today is not your day.”

            Luke sighed, trying to get his nerves to dissipate. “I know. It’s theirs.”

            Calum smiled up at him. “I can’t believe I’m here. Look at all these people.”

            “It’s a big function,” Ashton said, nodding.

            “Should we go in, or?”

            “If you want to,” Luke said.

            “I think it’s probably about time we take our seats. We’re front row, Luke,” Ashton said.

            Luke took a deep breath, thinking about how he’d be there just behind the judges, just in front of Calum up on stage. He was absolutely excited and absolutely terrified. He wanted Calum to do well. And he knew he would, but he wanted Calum to win because he didn’t want to feel like he’d failed Calum. There were two things he was afraid of if somehow Calum didn’t win today: one, that Calum would be unhappy and think that he wasn’t smart enough or that Luke hadn’t taught him well enough; and two, that he would, in turn, not want to be around Luke anymore. That Calum would think they’d had their fun over the weekend and now it was time to let the little fantasy go because it was unrealistic and stupid. He tried to push all of that out of his mind. He had no reason to doubt Calum’s abilities in the first place.

            “Oh,” he said. “How nice.”

            Ashton and Calum both looked over at him, and then at each other. “Wow,” Ashton said.

            “He seems so very excited,” Calum added.

            Luke went red. “No, I swear I am. I’m just…nervous.”

            “God, Luke, enough,” Ashton said playfully.

            “I have a right to my anxiety,” Luke said.

            “Not if we can help it,” Calum said and leaned into Luke’s side a little.

            Luke stared at them and said, “Is there really nobody else here who’s nervous out of their mind?”

            “I am,” Michael said, like a gavel calling order in the court. “But it’s going to be fine. Turn your nerves to pride and let’s go sit.”

            They all blinked at him. And then they shut up and followed Michael through the double doors and into the auditorium.

 

Luke watched as the stage was being set with podiums and microphones. Ashton was standing with the judges, talking to them like old friends. Luke still wished sometimes that he could be as charismatic as Ashton was. Sometimes he hated that he was always so shy and awkward. But he’d found people that liked that about him. Even loved it. One of those people he knew was going to be in his life forever, and he was walking over from the judges’ table to sit next to him just now. But the other…

            Luke looked up at the back of the stage where the students sat like kids at a spelling bee. They’d be called up in their original pairs, and then dwindle down to two through a few more rounds from there. Luke was still sure that it would be Calum and Michael in the champion round. He felt hugely unsure of what he wanted the outcome to be, however. He wanted Calum to win—but that wasn’t to say the he wanted Michael to lose. He wanted Michael to win too. He wanted them both to be proud of themselves and happy and he wanted them to _continue on_. That was the thing. He wanted Calum to want to still be with him both academically and romantically. He was afraid that if one ended, so would the other.

            “Is it hot in here?” he said to Ashton.

            “No, that’s just your nerves baking off of you in waves.”

            Luke sighed and shook his head.

            “You’re terrible at being excited.”

            “I really am excited, though. I just am…scared.”

            “Me too.”

            Luke turned to look at Ashton. “You are?”

            “Of course I am. I want to stay with mine just as much as you want to stay with yours. But I don’t think tonight will affect that. I think they’re mature enough to compartmentalize. Don’t you?”

            Luke nodded slowly. “I suppose. But I’m scared that—”

            The room fell silent around them, and Luke was forced to keep himself inside.

            The main judge was standing at front center stage. “Welcome, everyone, to the sixteenth annual undergraduate individual debate here at Feldmann Hall.” The audience clapped a little, and Luke did too, weakly. “Thank you to those who attended the group debate yesterday evening, and we hope you enjoyed it and that your minds expanded a little in the process. In just a moment, we’ll be calling your first pair of debaters. Initial pairs are randomly selected, and age, gender, and grade, therefore, have no effect on pairings. Once the first round has completed, the winners from the first four pairs will be put into two more random pairs, which, after debating, will then switch to form the other two pairing options, so that a final two can be fairly decided. And then comes the championship round, and the winner will be chosen. Debates are approximately fifteen minutes each, so prepare yourselves for a few hours of battle of knowledge.

            “Tonight’s theme is philosophy.”

            _Well I’ll…he was right_ , Luke thought. He looked up and Michael was still under the metaphorical curtain but Calum threw him a wink. He smiled a little, nervously.

            “We’ll be selecting popular philosophical and ethical thought experiments for each of the pairs as topics for debate. And so, without further ado, it’s time to select the first pair. Watch, listen, _think_. And enjoy.”

            The audience clapped once more as the judge returned to the table with his two fellow judges and they selected two names from a bowl.

            “Oh God…” Luke whispered.

            “Calm down,” Ashton said.

            The first two names were called and neither were Calum or Michael. Luke let out a silent sigh of relief, and he wasn’t sure why. They’d have to go eventually. Still, he was glad neither of them had to go first—now they could use that advantage Calum had talked about. Luke leaned back in his chair and did his best to relax.

            But then he straightened again, brow furrowing. “What if they’re paired? What if they go against each other in this first round?”

            Ashton raised his eyebrows and sighed. “I didn’t think of that. But the odds are pretty slim.”

            “One to three. More now.”

            “It’ll be okay. That won’t happen.”

            “How do you know? What if it does?”

            Ashton briefly put a hand on Luke’s leg and whispered, almost inaudibly, “Watch, listen, think. He loves you. It’s okay.”

            “Okay.”

            He leaned back again, sticking his hands under his legs.

            The sixteenth annual debate at Feldmann began.

 

They weren’t paired, and the first round went by the quickest for Luke. He was so sure of the boys that he barely even paid attention to what the kids were saying. Yes, he was thinking, but not about the debates going on in the first round. He was only thinking about Calum, about the weekend and Calum taking care of him and being with him and laying with him. He was so desperate to have it continue he could explode. He wished he could pause the debate, pause the time, and go to Calum and just hug him for a long time and maybe kiss him once and somehow make sure that Calum knew how much he wanted him to stay. Maybe Calum already knew, but Luke was so insecure about himself he couldn’t help but be worried.

            And then suddenly round one was over, and of course both Calum and Michael made it through to the next round.

            The audience clapped for the four disappointed but thank-you-so-much-for-the-opportunity-looking students who were leaving the stage.

            “Will you pay attention now?” Ashton said to him, not looking upset but maybe a little miffed.

            Luke flushed red again. “Yes. Sorry.”

            “I told you everything’s going to be okay.”

            “How can you be sure?”

            The judge called, “Round two, group one: Calum and Rachel, please come to the podiums.”

            Ashton only gave Luke a look that said _Stop being such a baby_ and then ticked his head toward the stage: _Calum’s up. Watch._

            Luke swallowed and watched Calum walk up to his podium. Calum didn’t look nervous at all. Calum looked like he was having a grand time. Luke suddenly felt ashamed for feeling the way he did. Calum was being a million times more mature about this than he was. He folded his hands in his lap and waited for their topic to be given.

 

On the topic of Wittgenstein’s Beetle in a Box, Calum said, “But to say that there must be some special entity called a mind that makes our experiences private from others is incorrect. If we consider the beetle to be, rather, ‘what is in your head,’ then to say that your mind is a private thing—when everyone else also has a beetle—would be fallacious. How can we all have the same thing, but all have something different? We can’t see into other people’s boxes, so with the language and perspective we use day by day, a unique beetle—a private and untouchable mind—cannot possibly exist. All we know is that what is in our box is a beetle, and what is in his box or her box is a beetle too.” And he won his second pair.

 

On the topic of the Ticking Time Bomb, Michael said, “If we want to look at this ethically, as we should, it would be far more morally incorrect to condemn thousands to an avoidable death. Consider a utilitarian point of view, which is most easily described as ‘one for many.’ Why do no direct harm to one life when you are absolutely sure that it will cause harm to thousands of others? Could that in any way be considered ethical? Protect— _save—_ as many people as you possibly can. Torture the prisoner, disable the bomb.” And he won his second pair.

 

The judges switched the pairings.

 

On the topic of the Heinz Dilemma, Calum said, “So of course Heinz should have broken into the druggist’s laboratory to steal the radium for his wife. The druggist had no essential downfall from Heinz’s theft, except for losing one dose of his clearly inexpensive-to-produce drug. Essentially, the druggist lost two hundred dollars, and nothing more. He _could_ have gained eight hundred if he had taken Heinz’s offer, but decided it wasn’t worth that or saving a woman’s life when he couldn’t have his full eighteen hundred profit. Stealing is clearly against the law, and it’s possible that Heinz will be judicially punished for his acts—although that delves much further into the thought experiment than this argument entails. The general point is that if Heinz hadn’t stolen the drug, a life would have been lost, but because he did, it wasn’t.” And he won his third pair.

 

On the topic of John Rawls’s Original Position, Michael said, “The only problem—and not one to be taken lightly—is that this veil of ignorance is thin. We are placing people from a society, people with a certain societal standing and political philosophy and set of world ideas, underneath this veil, attempting to get them to essentially erase their minds and their opinions in order to perform this experiment. Who could be absolutely impartial? Even under the circumstances of the experiment—even with the imagined human character assigned to each participant—it would be, psychologically, nearly impossible to be entirely impartial when participants use their true lives as a background for making decisions already. Like a juror deciding the fate of a defendant, participants _always_ have unconscious bias, no matter how much they wish to believe that they can be completely objective in any position, even the Original.” And he won his third pair.

 

And the judges didn’t even have to deliberate, and no extra debate had to be done as a tiebreaker. Michael and Calum would be moving on. The final round was already here.

 

“You’re standing by a fork in a set of train tracks,” the judge said, giving the boys their topic. “You see that on either side of the fork, people are tied to the tracks, and just next to you is a lever that will change the direction of the train which is now barreling down the tracks toward you. If you let the train continue as is, it will go to the right side of the tracks, killing the three people who happen to be tied there. However, if you pull the lever, the tracks will shift, and only the single person tied to the left side of the tracks will be killed. Should you pull the lever?” He looked up and nodded at them. “Mr. Hood, you will be presenting your argument first.” Calum nodded. “You know the drill. Five minutes for notes. Begin.”

            The minutes passed like lightning. Calum stepped up to his podium, and Luke held his breath.

            “Devised in 1967 by Philippa Foot, the Trolley—”

            Luke was already impressed. He hadn’t known who’d made the Problem. How did Calum know all these random facts?

            “—Problem is a seemingly simple dilemma to get us to think about the importance of a number of lives over another. In this original example as has just been described, the answer seems fairly obvious: pull the lever, save three lives over one.” He made a flat X in the air with his palms. “End of story. But not quite. Actually, not even close.

            “Consider another take on the Trolley Problem—the fat man hypothesis. Instead of pulling the lever, you see that there’s an obese man standing further up the tracks, in front of the people tied down.”

            Calum spoke with his hands—had learned it over the weeks with Luke when before he would just hold them down together in front of himself. But now, as Luke watched him speak, he could see that Calum was imagining the entire scenario playing out in his head. He pointed across the room to the invisible fat man, he drew his finger along to show the audience the tracks and the train riding upon it. Luke sat back in his chair, forced his body to relax a little further. Calum was doing just fine. Luke didn’t know why he’d ever been nervous at all.

            “You calculate that if you were to push the man onto the tracks, he would weigh enough that he could derail the train, saving _all four_ people tied to the tracks. Do you push him?” He paused. Luke smiled. “Most would say they would not—they can’t just kill this man outright to save some random people. But how is this any different from switching the track and killing the one person tied, except that pushing the man would save even more people? The problem comes psychologically. Pulling the lever is…impersonal. It’s not _me_ that’s killing the one tied person, but the train. But if I physically push the fat man to his death, _I_ have the blood on my hands. I’ve done it—I’ve killed him.” He put his hands out. “But I’ve also saved four lives.” He paused again. “This is where is seems to get even more difficult, and it does. But let’s take it back a few notches again. Forget the fat man—forget direct or indirect action. Consider only the people tied to the tracks.

            “There’s truly no other way to go about this problem than by hypothetical dilemma. Our topic included the one example—one person versus three. However, without knowledge of who—gender, age, occupation, societal standing, intelligence level, character—is lying tied to those tracks…there’s no way. No way to make any sort of sound, logical, or even sane decision about whether or not to pull the lever. It’s all a matter of hypothetical choice. Now, there are an infinite number of possibilities for who we can tie down to those tracks. Perhaps the easiest would be—just for typical society’s purposes—four middle-aged white males. Easy, right? Pull the lever, clearly. But what if the one man is a heart surgeon and the other three are criminals? What if each of the three has a wife and child but the one has a husband in critical condition who will only survive is he receives constant care?” Calum paused and flipped his notes over. “It’s easy to see the endless possibilities, and that’s only for four white males. What if the single person is a little girl, and the other three are old women? Kill the old ones—the child will give more to society later on…right? What if the little girl has unfortunate severe mental retardation and all the old women are terminally ill? Pull the lever? Don’t pull the lever? Push the fat man? How can any sane person decide when to take a life over another life?” He looked down at Luke. For a moment, he thought Luke was crying. Maybe that was just pride. “Believe me, you and I could go on all day and night about the millions of situations in which we could place the people on the tracks and the person with their hand on the lever. The point I’m trying to make is…we don’t know. Determining whether or not to pull that lever is a task only a sociopath or a child with no understanding of the situation could possibly make. One life? Three? Four, but with a deliberate, calculated murder?” He shook his head. “Impossible.” He stepped down.

            Luke had never heard someone not take a side before. A typical debate for this topic would be yes pull the lever for one side and no don’t for the other. But Calum had just changed everything. And he’d done it so well. Luke wondered briefly if it would throw Michael off. He looked over at Michael, saw his calm, icy face. No, of course it wouldn’t. Michael already knew what he was going to say. Good. They were both…

            “Incredible,” Ashton said so Luke could barely hear from beside him. “Never before.”

            Luke shook his head just the slightest bit in response.

            Michael stepped up to his podium.

            “My opponent is correct: there really is no better strategy for debating this problem than through hypothetical theory. However, there are molds we can use—tracks, if you will, that we can place ourselves on. Frames of mind to take. They come in the form of philosophical and ethical perspectives.”

            Luke blinked. That was a great idea. And as much as he was proud of Michael for thinking of it, he wished Calum had first. He looked at Calum again to see if he was worried. But Calum was only looking calmly over at Michael, possibly even smiling just a bit from the corner of his mouth.

            “We’ll begin with what my opponent has discussed without naming outright—the utilitarian perspective. Theorized by Jeremy Bentham and John Stewart Mill in the nineteenth century, the utilitarian perspective is all about the masses. For a problem like this one, we could call it ‘one for many’, just as we’ve done for Ticking Time Bomb dilemma discussed previously. Bentham and Mill essentially stated that as humans, we should do that which is moral so long as the act produces the greatest amount of good for the greatest number of people.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Simple. Pull the lever—save three. Or push the fat man. Save four. Or…save the doctor over the criminals, thus saving more lives in the real world? Or save the straight men because of their chances to procreate?” He took a glance over at Calum. Calum’s small smile remained on his lips. “Perhaps a different perspective could simplify things a little more.

            “Egoism, developed by Thomas Hobbes. Act in your own self-interest. Pull the lever—save three and look like a big hero. Or maybe walk away and spare yourself the mental anguish, the projected guilt from others, and the physical punishment for taking a life.

            “Intuitionism says we have an inherent sense of right and wrong, a gut feeling, a hunch. So _don’t think_ , just do. Act on impulse. It would seem that most would pull the lever.

            “Thomas Aquinas’s Natural Law Theory has us respect and preserve _all_ life, possibly despite cultural or societal value. It also asks us to make decisions that will propagate the human species. Pull the lever to save more lives? Push the fat man to save the most lives? But then commit a murder… Don’t do anything and avoid any direct killing? But someone still dies, no matter what, no matter who they are. Save the doctor then—he’ll save lives. But, save the three straight men because they’ll produce more offspring. Maybe. Whatever you do, don’t save those dying old women—they’ll never do anything for the species. But then, would the little girl with the unfortunate genes do anything much better?”

            Michael flipped his notes, took a deep breath.

            “Virtue or character ethics asks: who do I want to be? Do I want to kill to save lives and be well known for it? Or do I want to walk away and have no remorse over murder?

            “Divine Command Theory is fairly obvious: thou shalt not kill. Unless, maybe you follow a different god? Maybe your god _wishes_ you to kill for whatever reason it may be. So what do you do? And can it be justified by which god or gods you choose to follow? No? Christianity and the Muslim faith would beg to differ.

            “In duty ethics, Immanuel Kant tells us that reason is equal to morality and that we have a duty, as reasoning beings, to meet the most moral goal. As we’ve pointed out, there are many options to reason through before the train barrels someone down. The train’s moving pretty quick—you only have a few moments. Can you reason? _What_ is your reason? Is your logic sound, or is it infected by your personal opinions—like the participants in the Original Position?”

            Michael’s voice stopped and his body relaxed. So did Luke’s. He’d been incredibly tense—Michael was on the fastest roll he’d ever witnessed. This debate was insane—quick and well spoken and factual and packed with knowledge. And yet, something was off. Not off in a bad way but off in a way like…

            Luke closed his eyes for just a moment, thinking. This wasn’t a debate like any other he’d seen before. Why? Because this was one of his students? Because they were so new but so _good_? No…

            No. He opened his eyes and realized that the most incredible part of it all was that this wasn’t so much a debate as a shared manifesto. It was almost as if the two were working together, messing with the system, throwing the rules and regulations straight out the window. And wasn’t that the whole point of this competition anyway, the classes they were in, the structure of the debate system here at the university? And each of the boys was remembering that rule—their job wasn’t to win, but to get the audience to believe what they were telling them. And they were—both Calum and Michael were doing just that. Together. Michael had even said _we_ instead of _my opponent_. They were shifting things drastically, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. There was nothing anyone _wanted_ to do about it. The whole thing was simply amazing.

            “It’s already been said,” Michael continued, and Luke wished he hadn’t missed his past few sentences, but listened intently nonetheless. “The decision whether or not to pull the lever, save the men or the little girl or the old women or the doctor lawyer criminal wife politician professor student anyone…” He paused, and Luke already knew he was going to say, “Impossible.”

            He stepped down.

            There was a thick silence. Someone in the back of the hall cleared his throat.

            “Okay,” the judge said, strange and slow. He looked at his fellow judges and then cleared his own throat. “Five minutes for rebuttal notes. Time begins now.”

            Michael and Calum glanced at each other, and Luke saw no expression on their faces save for a calm knowing. They went to their podiums and got clean sheets of paper and both leaned forward to write—

            But then the judge put a hand up, stopping them, and said, “Actually, will you hold on, please? Excuse us for a moment.”

            Both boys looked up, expressions of slight surprise on their faces. They both laid their pencils down quietly, and when they glanced at each other again it was confusion that passed between them.

            The judge looked up at them for a moment, then turned quietly to the other two and spoke with them for a few minutes.

            Luke tried so hard to hear what they were saying, but he just couldn’t. He was freaking out, and the tension in the room wasn’t helping in the slightest. What was happening? Were the judges going to throw this whole thing out because they hadn’t done it right? Were they going to be disqualified? _What was going on?_

            Luke turned to Ashton and whispered, so quietly, “Ash?”

            Ashton swallowed. “Shh. Just wait.”

            “What’s happening?”

            He put a hand lightly on Luke’s knee. “I don’t know. Just wait.”

            “Jesus…”

            He turned back forward and met eyes with Calum. Calum threw him a look like _What are they saying?_ Luke gave back _I have no idea._ Calum looked down at the floor. Luke wished he could go over and hug him. Maybe all of Luke’s fears about this whole thing were coming true. Maybe he really did have a right to be nervous this whole time. What was going to happen to their relationship once the judges kicked them off the stage?

            There was tight silence with only the whispers of the judges for a few more minutes that felt like a year to Luke and Ashton and Calum and Michael. And then the main judge straightened and turned to the stage again. He pointed with his pen at Michael, and Michael’s exterior broke and he shrank back just the tiniest bit. “Two courses?” the judge asked.

            Michael didn’t answer for a moment. He glanced at Ashton, and Ashton gave him an encouraging nod. Michael visibly swallowed. “Yes, sir,” he said. “This past summer B and this semester.”

            The judge’s brow furrowed and he looked to Calum. Michael lowered his head.

            “ _One_ course?” the judge asked Calum.

            Calum nodded. “Yes, sir. Just this semester.”

            The judge nodded and looked down at his notes.

            Luke reached over and found Ashton’s hand. Ashton squeezed it, and then they both let go again.

            The judge said, “Listen. We…” He sighed.

            Luke tried very hard not to cry. He tried to look at Calum again, but Calum was only staring at the judge.

            The judge sighed again. “All right. I make the rules here. I’m just going to say it.” He looked up at the stage. “Don’t rebut. You’re done. That’s it. We don’t need to hear anything else. You two have…we can’t believe you’re this young and have barely broken the surface of this subject and…” He shook his head. “You are both incredibly intelligent, incredibly talented young men. Rebuttal would be unnecessary, if only to hear you two speak for just a little longer. But you don’t need to. It’s…a job _very_ well done, gentlemen. Thank you.”

            There was no sound but murmurs from the audience. The boys just stood there, staring.

            The judge smiled at them. “It’s done. You’re not in trouble. We just want to take a second to make our final decision.”

            One of the other judges spoke up. “Really,” she said. “We don’t need to hear more. You both belong up there. We still have to pick an overall winner but…” She shrugged.

            “Good job,” the main judge said.

            The judges started clapping for them, and the room joined in quickly, save for Luke and Ashton. They gripped each other’s hands again, and looked up at their respective students.

            Calum looked one hundred percent shocked. Michael looked one hundred percent about to pass out, resting his hands on the edge of his podium for stability. Ashton gave Michael a thumbs up and carefully blew him a kiss. Luke tried to give Calum anything but a wide-eyed stare but he couldn’t. He was just as surprised as everyone else.

            What the fuck had just happened? So…they didn’t both win…but they weren’t in trouble. They were being _praised_ for what they’d done. Just as well—they should be. It was amazing. They way they’d gone about it was so perfect for the topic and so against everything debate was about… It was a monumental development when it came to the goals of this department: teaching not debate, but knowledge—getting people to simply _think_. That was exactly what the two had just done.

            A smile twitched onto Calum’s lips. Luke did his best to return it, and he found that it wasn’t too hard. Maybe things would be okay…

            The applause died down, and the boys stood quietly, smiling at each other, patiently waiting to learn who won overall. To them, it didn’t matter in the slightest. But Luke was still, way back in his mind and in the pit of his stomach, worried about what might happen. It was his nature—it was his anxiety. No amount of assuring from Ashton’s words or Calum’s eyes could make it go away. So he waited too. Waited to see if Calum would stay with him in the long run.

            At last, the judge spoke again. “Okay. So then…let’s get on with it. All right, gentlemen. First things first—again, congratulations to both of you for making it this far. You two are incredible debaters, and the both of you will be moving along at a rapid pace if you choose to continue.” He paused briefly and got to business. “We wanted to let you know that this was not a unanimous decision—we were two to one, and that was simply because a decision had to be made. If you both could win, you would. But too many rules have already been broken here today,” he said, chuckling.

            Luke felt something grow in his chest. He glanced at Ashton and Ashton was just smiling coolly, holding back his emotions much better than Luke was. Luke turned back and met eyes with Calum and Calum just smiled a tiny bit, still looking confused, and glanced away.

            The judge continued: “Um…” He shook his head. “All we can say is…you’ve changed the game. I think everyone in this room can agree with that.”

            Everyone started clapping again, softer this time. Both Calum and Michael shifted on their feet, blushing furiously. They were getting applause for fucking everything up, albeit on purpose. Luke clapped hard with the rest of the room.

            The judge waved his hands down, and the room quieted. “So before we tell you your results—and we’ve only done this twice before—we wanted to formally invite the both of you to attend next year’s competition, if you choose to do so.”

            Both boys tried to hide their astonishment, and they both gave a little nod and a “Thank you, sir” as the audience clapped quietly for them once again.

            “All right. So after much debate…” a light chuckle went around the room, “…Michael Clifford, congratulations. You’re this year’s champion.”

            Luke felt himself stand mechanically. He couldn’t really hear the audience clapping and whistling behind him, couldn’t really see Ashton grinning huge in his periphery. He was standing and clapping and doing all the things he should be doing right now but he didn’t feel anything but the ringing in his ears and the sinking of his insides. What was going to happen? Calum had no reason to stay with him anymore.

            But he saw Calum light up immediately at the calling of Michael’s name. Calum jumped up a little and he started clapping so hard and he and Michael met between their podiums in a tight hug. Luke could see Calum mouthing _Oh my God, Michael. You were amazing._ And he could see when Michael pulled back that he was smiling and saying right back _So were you._ They hugged again and they turned and they looked at the audience and they just smiled and laughed.

            And Luke felt better. He realized once again how mature Calum had become over these past few weeks and how close he and Michael had gotten. And Calum was nothing but happy for Michael. Maybe that meant things would be okay between him and Calum, as well. And then Luke realized how selfish he was being right now and he got out of his head and he finally heard everyone clapping—clapping for his student and for his best friend’s student and though they were both so much more than that, right now that was their biggest achievement. So Luke raised his arms a little and he clapped and he looked Michael in the eye and gave him a nod and he met Calum’s gaze and he mouthed _I love you_. And Calum said _Too_.

            And then the judges were up on the stage and shaking both of the boys’ hands and congratulating them again. And Michael was handed a plaque—one identical to the one that sat on Ashton’s office desk save for the name and the year carved in script into the bronze.

            Luke felt a tugging on his arm and it was Ashton pulling him and saying, just barely audible over the clapping, “Come on! Pictures!”

            “He did it!” Luke shouted as they started for the stairs.

            “I know! It had to be one of them, right?”

            “Yeah.”

            Ashton gave him a face. “He did great, Luke.”

            “I know.”

            They reached their boys and they stood for pictures. This time Luke put his hand on Calum’s back and it wasn’t weird. He was actually glad he got to—he’d been wanting to touch Calum this whole time. And even just one hand on the middle of his back was enough. For now.

            The two of them left the stage and waited while Michael got more pictures with Ashton, and then some just by himself. And then Ashton and Michael left the stage and stood by them.

            “Thank you everyone for coming tonight,” the judge said. “We’d like to invite you all to the banquet hall just off to the left there,” he pointed, “for a quick reception and refreshments. Congratulations to our champion once again, and we hope to see you all again next year.” He nodded and left the stage, and everyone began to migrate to the reception hall.

            The four waited until most of the people had left the auditorium, and then the two older hugged the two younger. Ashton looked around briefly and then kissed Michael’s nose. “Congratulations, Michael.”

            Michael gazed into his eyes and smiled. “All because of you.”

            “Let me see that plaque.”

            While they looked, Luke pulled back from his hug with Calum. “You were incredible, Calum.”

            Calum gave him a soft smile. “Thank you. It felt incredible. I had so much fun.”

            “That’s good.”

            It hung in the air that Calum hadn’t won. But neither of them seemed to want to say it.

            “I wish I could kiss you,” Luke said quietly.

            Calum just shrugged and turned to face Ashton and Michael.

            Luke’s heart sank a little. Why had he just dismissed it like that?

            “I knew you would win,” Calum said to Michael.

            “I thought you had it,” Michael said. “When you started talking about the modification—the fat man—I thought that was it for me.”

            “But you took it right from my hands and gave them more,” Calum said. “You’re so good at emotional arguments.”

            “Honestly, you were both so good I had no idea what the outcome was going to be, much less what happened with the rebuttal being removed,” Ashton said. “Right, Luke?”

            Luke didn’t answer for a moment, only stared at the side of Calum’s head. “Uh…no, yeah. It was great. Michael, you did such a good job.”

            Ashton gave him a funny look, then seemed to understand that Luke only wanted to talk to Calum alone. “And you’re invited back for next year. That’s wonderful. You guys really did change the game. You didn’t plan that, did you?”

            Neither of the boys really answered, only smiled.

            Ashton smiled back and nodded. “Should we head to the reception then?”

            Luke started to say, “Yeah, why don’t—”

            “You guys go on,” Calum interrupted, and Ashton held back a smile. That was what he was hoping for. “We’ll be there in a second,” Calum said.

            Ashton smiled and said, “All right. Don’t be too long.” He went to hook his arm into Michael’s then seemed to remember that he couldn’t in front of everyone. He rolled his eyes and looked at Michael, who knew just what was going on with the other two, and said, “Let’s get some cake.”

            They walked over into the reception room where everyone was already mingling. They stepped through the doorway, keeping a safe five inches away from each other, and everyone gave Michael another bit of applause and he put his hand up and waved a thank you.

            Calum watched them, smiling, and then Luke asked, “Calum. Can I—”

            “Follow me,” Calum said, and started back behind the stage without looking up at Luke.

            Luke sighed and watched him go until he disappeared behind the blue velvet curtain. Luke shook his head, wanting to just sit down and be depressed, but he followed. He went up the steps onto the stage and walked to where Calum had gone and when he reached his hand out to pull back the curtain Calum grabbed his wrist and pulled him around and into a kiss.

            Surprised, Luke put his hands on Calum’s hips and held tight. And then he pulled back and said, “What’s—”

            “I could tell you were worried. That I might not win and what that might mean. But I didn’t expect to win and that’s okay. I had _so_ much fun. Don’t worry about it, Luke. I don’t blame you. I don’t blame anyone. There’s nothing to blame for. It was amazing and Michael absolutely deserved to win and I love you.” He grasped Luke’s face gently in his hands and kissed him again, long and slow and breathy and wet.

            Luke melted into it, understanding that everything was going to be okay. He was wrong to think that Calum would be anything but happy that he’d even gotten this opportunity. Calum was brilliant and mature and Luke felt like an idiot for thinking he’d get upset about not winning. Luke was just glad Calum was here and Calum still was his.

            Calum pulled away eventually and said, “Okay. We can go now.”

            “I don’t want to.” Luke leaned in to kiss him again. Calum let him but only briefly.

            “I don’t want to look all flushed,” Calum said.

            “Please?”

            “Let’s go find Ashton and Michael.”

            Luke sighed and rolled his eyes, but then smiled. “Fine. Are you still…are we staying together tonight?”

            “We can stay together the whole break if you want.”

            Luke’s eyes went wide.

            Calum smiled and kissed his own hand and patted it onto Luke’s cheek. “Come on. Let’s go.”

 

They mingled around the reception room with the other students and professors and audience members and mostly Ashton and Michael. And though Luke couldn’t hold Calum or kiss Calum, he knew that they were closer now than ever before. He still knew that the future—starting right after two weeks of Christmas break—was entirely unsure. He didn’t know what classes Calum would have or how much football would take over his life. He caught Ashton’s glance at one point and knew that Ashton was thinking all the same things as he was, simply about Michael. But Ashton gave him a tiny reassuring smile. Luke returned it and watched Calum move around, smiling and laughing and just being _him_. And Luke had no idea what he’d let himself fall into, but he wasn’t going to be trying to get out any time soon. And Luke felt, once again, okay.


	20. Epilogue: What I Like About You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this and all the love you've given it--comments and kudos and smiles at your phone screens. Here's the last chapter.  
> And it's possible that I might write a sequel for this. I've got the idea and the basic plotline and the first chapter, but I'm not really sure yet. I have like ten other stories I'm working on all at the same time.  
> Nonetheless, thank you. Love you guys (:

They sprinted, all four of them, as fast as they could three blocks down from Feldmann Hall to the little supermarket on campus, jackets flying back from their bodies.

            “You were supposed to watch the time, Luke!” Ashton shouted, and a group of students gave them weird looks as they ran past.

            “So _rry_ , my eyes were elsewhere!” Luke shouted back.

            Calum glanced up at him and smiled.

            It was twenty minutes until they went on stage at the fundraiser, and they still had to get over there and change their clothes. Problem was, the frosting from the cake they’d eaten at the debate reception had stained all their teeth blue. Before Ashton had punched him in the shoulder, Michael had said it looked like they’d all sucked off a Smurf.

            And so they were running, and then slowing, and Calum was holding the door to the market open and Michael was running to the aisle where they kept toothbrushes and Ashton was pulling a pair of twenties from his wallet and throwing them at the guy behind the register. Luke went back to the door and held it again, shouting a “Thanks!” at the cashier as the others ran back out and Michael doled out the toothbrushes and they all stuck them in their pockets.

            They started down the sidewalk again, back the way they’d come. Ashton’s hat flew off his head. Michael was behind him, caught it mid-run, and shoved it back on.

            “Fuck,” Ashton said. “That was a moment. I wish we could stop and I could—”

            “Don’t even think about it,” Michael said, and pulled him along.

            “Thank God the hall’s close,” Calum said.

            “Thank God they set up for us,” Luke replied.

            In another few minutes they were past Feldmann, turning a corner, and running through the back doors of Armstrong Hall.

            “Be right there,” Luke breathed out, and he went backstage to grab a bag he’d brought in the day before and then went and met the others in the bathroom. He threw the bag down onto the floor and unzipped it, and there were all the clothes they needed.

            “Who thought to have us pack again?” Ashton asked, squeezing toothpaste onto his brush and handing the tube off to Michael.

            “Calum,” Luke said.

            “An hour in between? I had a feeling something like this would happen,” Calum said.

            Luke snorted, and they all started to brush their teeth together, giving each other foamy, excited smiles.

            A student opened the door to the bathroom and raised an eyebrow at them. “What the fuck are you guys doing?”

            “Pete!” Calum said, trying not to spit. He rinsed his mouth quickly from the water fountain, tossed his toothbrush in the trash, and ran over and hugged him. “You came!”

            Peter scoffed. “Course I did. Front row, dude. Not that there are rows tonight—they took out the seats. Don’t you guys have like five minutes?”

            “We’re working on it,” Calum said. He turned to the others, who were looking weirded out about brushing their teeth in front of a stranger. “Guys, this is my best friend, Peter. We do football together.”

            “Hey,” Peter said, and stuck his hand out to Ashton, then Michael, then— “Luke Hemmings. AKA Calum’s Debate teacher. AKA Calum’s boyfriend?”

            Luke flushed red and his eyes went wide.

            Calum smiled at him and touched his arm. “It’s fine. He’s my Ashton.”

            Peter smiled at him. Luke wished so badly he didn’t have toothpaste all in his mouth right now. He put his hand out and shook. “Nice to meet you, Peter.” It came out mushy.

            “He really is shy,” Peter said.

            Ashton, just finishing rinsing his mouth, let out a “Ha!” Michael shoved him.

            “Yeah, he is,” Calum said. “Although…” He leaned close to Peter and whispered something in his ear.

            Peter raised his eyebrows, then jerked away and smacked Calum. “Dude! Why’d you tell _me_ that?”

            Luke turned away quickly to rinse his mouth out, not wanting to even think about what Calum might have just told Peter about the weekend and about when he wasn’t quite as shy as usual.

            Calum laughed. “Told you I’d give you details when you least expected it. Payback for embarrassing me in the dining hall.”

            “Shut up. Well, as long as you’re making him happy,” he said over to the sinks.

            Luke turned around, realizing Peter was talking to him. “What? Oh…Calum. Really?”

            “Good for the soul, Luke,” Michael said.

            Luke made a not unkind face at him. “You’d know. You tell us everything.”

            Michael shrugged and started to pull his clothes out from the duffel bag, placing his plaque into it. Ashton followed, and they went into the stalls—separately, to Luke’s relief—to change.

            “Anyway,” Peter said. “It was nice meeting you, Luke. I’m sure we’ll get to talk again. Hurt my boy and you’re dead?” He put a hand up like _Is that okay with you?_

            Calum shoved him. “Pete.”

            Luke only nodded vigorously at him. He had no plans to ever hurt Calum in any way. They shook hands again.

            “You guys should get going,” Peter said. “Shakespeare’s almost done. We need a change of pace.”

            “Sweet. See you out there,” Calum said, and Peter left the bathroom with a wave over his shoulder.

            Luke faced Calum. “He seems nice.”

            Calum smiled. “He’s very nice. He’s been my friend since I got here. He’s a good guy—super supportive. And he’s safe. He won’t tell anyone except maybe his fiancée who lives hours away and couldn’t care less about my love life. And even then, he wouldn’t say you’re my teacher.”

            “Well, I’m not anymore.”

            Luke looked sad, but Calum wasn’t. “No you’re not. Not formally anyway. Right now you’re my bandmate and yes, you are AKA my boyfriend.”

            “Aww!” Michael shouted, and opened the door of his bathroom stall, walking out in black skinnies and a grey sleeveless Harley Davidson shirt, messing with his hair. He went over to them, put his other clothes in the duffel, and pulled them into an uncomfortable group hug. “You guys are great.”

            Ashton came out, also in black jeans and a regular black tank top, with black Converse with white Xs painted on the sides. He came over and joined the hug. “You’re going to crush them, Michael.”

            Michael let them go. “Hurry up!” He went out to go backstage.

            “Dang, Ashton,” Calum said.

            “What?”

            “You were right about his arms,” Calum said to Luke, still looking at Ashton.

            “Oh, these?” Ashton said, putting his elbows out. “I’d cover them but…I get really sweaty.”

            “Makes weird faces too,” Luke said.

            Calum smiled.

            “Shut up, Lucas. And hurry up. We gotta go. Get changed.” He smacked Luke’s butt and followed Michael backstage to make sure his kit was right.

            “Add those to the list,” Calum said.

            “What?”

            “His arms and that he smacked your ass.”

            “What list?” Luke asked.

            “The list of reasons why I should be jealous of him.”

            Luke rolled his eyes and handed Calum his clothes. “Stop.” He leaned forward and gave Calum a quick kiss. “That’s still my favorite shirt on you.”

            “We’re alone. You can do better than that.”

            Luke paused, then pulled Calum to him and kissed him deeply. “But we do need to hurry.”

            “Right.”

            Calum already had his jeans, so he just started unbuttoning his shirt. Luke wished he could just stand there and watch, but he needed to get ready too. He unbuttoned his shirt much faster than Calum did—he was used to it—and pulled a dark blue t-shirt over his head. Calum’s head popped through the neck of the _Nimrod_ shirt and he smiled at Luke.

            “Wait. Stop,” Luke said.

            “We have to go!”

            “Just really quick.” Luke pulled his phone out. _Nimrod_ shirt, messy hair, candid smile—it was exactly the picture he’d been wanting to take since Sunday morning.

            “We’re in the bathroom,” Calum said.

            “I don’t care.” He took the photo and Calum stuck his tongue out a little. “Oh. That’s perfect.”

            “Great. Now change your pants and meet us out there.”

            “Don’t leave me here.”

            “Better hurry. I can hear Michael’s opening chords already.”

            “ _Really?_ ”

            “No. Come on!” He threw Luke a grin and left the bathroom.

            Luke kicked his shoes away and shoved his pants off, grabbed his jeans, and tugged them on as quick as he could, then stuck his feet in his Converse. He balled up his clothes and shoved them in the duffel, zipped it, and ran out backstage. Ashton was up on the back of the stage, behind the second curtain, hidden from the audience, waving him over. Luke could hear them being announced now.

            “Oh shit.” He ran over and grabbed his Mira, threw the strap over his head. “This thing better be tuned.”

            “I got you,” Michael said. Luke gave him a thankful look.

            “Guys?” Ashton called.

            “Yeah?” Calum said.

            “Let’s cut the intro eight bars. Start playing and walk out as my curtain lifts.”

            “Whatever you say,” Luke said.

            “That means I’m in the lead,” Michael said, and started for the stage.

            The audience was clapping—they were officially announced. Ashton clicked his sticks and counted them in, and Michael started the opening lead chords as he walked out onstage. Luke and Calum smiled at each other, then followed behind, and they fell into their previously-decided positions: Michael stage right, Calum stage left, Luke front and center since he sang most of the song and had started this whole thing anyway.

            The audience was already cheering, and it was still just Michael. Then Calum looked over at Luke, and they waited another bar, and then hit their chord as Ashton hit the downbeat on his crash cymbals and Michael shouted into his mic. They built the next few bars, and then, without them even signaling, the whole audience joined in on the _Hey!_

            They played. Luke’s voice was spot on, and Calum noticed the weird way he put his feet. He liked it, and he liked the way Luke held the mic in both hands and looked sideways at him and Michael.

            The audience loved the song—knew all the words to such a popular track. They’d made a good choice in picking it.

            Michael’s solo was incredible, and he walked right in front of Luke and played it right into the audience and the cheers he got were insane.

            Ashton sang, and he sounded breathless and amazing, and his little solo back into the chorus nearly broke one of his drums.

            At one point, not long before the song was over, Luke looked over to see Calum pointing briefly at Michael, eyes wide and sticking his chin out, like he was telling him something. Luke turned and saw Michael grin and nod back. Luke watched as they stepped up onto their amps, and just as Luke started to sing the last set of _That’s what I like about you_ s, they jumped backward, pulling their guitars off to the side, Calum tucking his knees up and Michael doing a half-split before landing on beat and spinning around and still playing all the while. Luke held back a delighted laugh, making sure he didn’t miss any notes, the audience went wild, and they played out. They hit the triplets they had decided to add at the end back in Therapy, and held the note at a fermata until Ashton signaled them to stop with a crash of his cymbals and a final strike of a chord.

            They faced the audience and the cheering was incredible. Ashton stood and put his arms up, giggling, and Michael threw his pick into the crowd. A group of freshman girls fought over it. Calum and Luke looked at each other and couldn’t stop grinning. Luke went to his mic and said a quick “Thank you!” as Calum leaned down and high-fived Peter. Then Ashton came forward and they all stood in a line and Michael raised his hand and they bowed, not together, laughing. They waved, and they went backstage.

            Ashton giggled and shoved a kiss onto Michael’s face. Luckily, no one was there to see it but Luke and Calum.

            “That was fucking great! You’re actually dripping,” Michael said to Ashton.

            Ashton made a face, still smiling. “Stop! It’s embarrassing enough.”

            Michael smiled at him. “No, it’s awesome. I’m so in love with you.”

            Luke, Calum, and Ashton all froze.

            Ashton stepped closer to Michael. Michael took his guitar off—the new one that Ashton had bought him and that sounded so good—and put it on a stand next to him. “Michael,” Ashton whispered. “I love you, too.”

            “Oh, thank goodness,” Michael said softly. “I was afraid—”

            Ashton tugged him to his body and held him there in a tight hug. “I love you so much.”

            Michael kissed his cheek, tasting his sweat.

            Luke and Calum only watched. Calum looked big-eyed up at Luke and all they were in that moment was happy for their best friends. They took each other’s hands, and they removed their guitars and waited until Michael and Ashton pulled away from each other, having a few quick kisses first.

            “I guess you two will want to get home, then?” Luke said to them.

            Ashton smiled and kept his arm around Michael’s waist. “I mean, I’d invite you guys out for drinks but we’re pretty gross.”

            Calum laughed and nodded. “It’s okay. It’s late anyway. Luke and I have a lot of work to do over the break. I think there’s a record we have to beat?”

            Luke didn’t know what Calum was talking about, but Michael did, and if Michael did then Ashton did. They both laughed and gave him nods. “All right,” Ashton said. “Then we have competition.”

            Michael only smiled, a hint of that arrogant look on his face from no more than an hour ago at the debate. But Calum met his eyes, and Michael grinned at him. “You guys have fun, okay?”

            “We will,” Calum said, giving him a look like _Oh, we_ definitely _will_.

            “Bye, guys,” Ashton said.

            “Bye,” Luke and Calum said at the same time.

            Michael picked up his guitar and held onto Ashton and they parted from their friends for the night.

            “What is that?” Luke asked, looking over at Calum. “Record?”

            “You’ll see,” Calum said, and squeezed his hand. Luke made a confused face, but Calum only handed him his guitar and got his own. “I’ll explain later. Don’t worry. I think you’ll like it a lot. Drive me home?”

            “Home home?”

            “Wherever you are, Luke.”

**Author's Note:**

> Any quotes, song titles/lyrics, and things of that type are not my work, and I take no credit for them (though I do thank those who made them for their incredible artistry).


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